Slow Burn
by shallots
Summary: Joker stroked Harley’s bandaged wound, "This will look different from your oth-er arm. It'll probably leave a little white line when it heals. Get it now? I changed you forever," he held her face in his hands, "How's it feel?"
1. Team Joker

The phone rang for the sixth time before the answering machine began.

"You have reached Harleen Quinzel. I'm not able to answer the phone right now, but please leave a message after the beep," it said before beeping.

"This is Dr. Leeland, please pick up doctor, I know you're there," she sighed.

Harley sat on the couch staring at the phone.

"Please Harleen. I don't want to fire you, but you've missed an entire week of work. This can't go on. I know you are distressed about your former patient. But, please pick up,"

She picked up the phone and pressed the talk button, followed swiftly by the off button. Then returned to her spot on the couch.

It had been a week, one week since she went to work, one week since she broke the Joker out of Arkham, one week since she had killed. A chill ran down her spine, one week since she had seen Mr. J.

_"Patience is a virtue Harley-darling," he said as he kissed her firmly on the lips before disappearing into his hide out, leaving her alone in her car._

She was frustrated with him and herself. Joker made it clear that if they ever met again he'd come find her. She should have protested, she wanted him more than anything in the world right now.

_"Do ya have your cell phone?" he asked._

_"Uh huh," she handed him the phone._

_He viewed her cell's number, after memorizing it he added his own number to her contact list._

_"Don't call me I'll call you," he snapped a picture of himself with the phone's camera._

_"Why not," she pouted._

_He giggled, "That's how it's supposed to be, boy calls the girl sweetheart,"_

She picked up her cell phone which sat beside her. She looked at her pictures, Joker's was the only one. She stared at the image of him, his tongue sticking out making a face at her.

"Why won't you call?" she said to the picture.

She rose again, sitting the cell phone on the counter she deleted the message from her boss, as well as three others from days past. Harley could not bring herself to return to work. Not because she feared someone would accuse her of aiding the Joker in his escape. No one suspected her. She had done well at concealing her identity that night, with her make up and costume. And of course that ridiculous accent. No, it was more than that, Harley wanted to forget what she had done.

Eventually the image of Shane bleeding on the cold Asylum floor would fade. It was already beginning to. A longing for Mr. J replaced it.

She looked at the shiny, black phone laying on the counter, "How long do I have to wait," she cried.

* * *

Joker stood on the roof of his new hideout. It had a wonderful view. His residence was now an apartment complex. He and his crew basically took over the building, explaining to the land lord it now belonged to the Clown Prince of Crime. The man protested at first, but Joker was very persuasive. It wasn't long be for the man agreed. In fact right that second the land lord was sitting in his own apartment with "smile" on his face.

The clown sat down on the edge of the flat roof top, his legs dangling over the side of the building. Playfully he kicked them back and forth now looking towards the ground. The building was quite large, should he slip and fall he'd surely be killed. But things like that didn't often enter his mind. Joker was a lot of things, cautious was not one of them. He was a wild card. He never spent much time contemplating the consequences of his often times poor choices. If ever. In his mind if he were to lose his balance and drop of the roof, so what. Death was inevitable. Even the Joker couldn't escape it and that was something he easily excepted. Near death experiences have a way of changing your perspective on things. He licked his scars smudging his red lipstick.

He looked up again towards his wonderful view. It wasn't the most picturesque of places however. The Narrows were quite unattractive. They were smokey and dirty. Everything to be a different shade of brown or grey. But to him it was home, despite it's lack of color. It was the perfect place to set up "camp" because it was a breeding ground, a breeding ground for others like himself. Hundreds of children living in the Narrows were poor, had abusive parents and were going to spend the rest of their meaningless lives in this hell hole. And where would most of them end up? In gangs of course. Hopefully there would be plenty willing to join his team.

He giggled. Team Joker. He the sound of liked that. Harley could be their cheerleader. He thought of her bouncing around in a skimpy outfit like a little, blond bunny.

He wondered what his former shrink was doing right now. Maybe he should call her. He wanted to wait a while before they met again. It had been a week or maybe two. All the days sort of blended together for him. It had probably been long enough.

Joker wanted to make her wait. It'd be good for her, take her down a few pegs. She needed to be submissive. She needed to need him, to crave his attention. Just like a good little pet should.

The time apart would make her see just how much she needed her Mr. J. He wanted her to want him. He wanted to see Dr. Harleen Quinzel crawl to him, begging to be with him. It was far from impossible. He could see it beginning already. After all Harley had willingly gave up her virginity to him. She broke him out of Arkham, she even killed for him. He smiled, that last part had been particularly satisfying. Madness like gravity, takes no more then a little push. And that was it. Shooting an innocent man in the head. Joker hadn't forced her to, he didn't threaten her. He just gave her a choice, Harley made the wrong decision. She thought she knew him, she didn't.

He dug through his pockets searching for his phone.

No, maybe not. He could do much better than that.

He stood and headed back down into the building. He walked through the building past rows of apartments. All of them empty, when he and his boys showed up most of the tenants decided to live elsewhere.

All except for one man. Joker convinced him to join the team. He had not named the twitchy little guy yet. The title Ace was now opened. No, it didn't seem to fit the new henchmen. Jester perhaps or maybe Bozo. Still not quite right, he pulled a deck of playing cards out of his pocket. Shuffling them form one hand to the next as he walked down stairs. He drew an ace of spades. Already taken. He added the card back into the deck and pulled out another. Queen of clubs, that would not work at all.

He walked down another hallway and kicked open an Chuckles's apartment door.

Chuckles and Spades laid sleeping on the couch in front of the tv.

"Gooood morning sunshine," Joker sang approaching the sleeping pair of henchmen.

Spades sat up groggily rubbing his eyes.

"Hm Spades is here to. Whatever, I not judge-ing," the clown shrugged.

He wondered into the apartment's kitchenette and opened the fridge door.

"Something you need boss," Chuckles yawned.

"Yeeees," Joker responded while searching through the fridge.

He removed a can of Mountain Dew.

"Do you guys have any straws," he stared at the soda can.

"I don't think so boss," Chuckles said confused, "Is uh, that all you wanted?"

"No," he returned the can to the refrigerator, "Our uh, newest addition to the teeamm, what should we name him?"

"What about Happy?" Spades suggested going with the clown theme.

"Nah, have you seen this guy. No, I was thiiinking something with cards,"

"Cards, uh... clubs, hearts, diamonds, Spades is taken. So's Joker, king ain't right," Chuckles thought out loud, "Well what about Jack?"

Joker licked his scars, "No, thaaat, that wouldn't work-uh," he looked downward and fingered a knife in one of his pockets.

The two henchmen froze, alert due to their bosses sudden change in mood.

Chuckles was somewhat relieved when he removed his hand from his pocket.

The clown looked up at him and smiled, "I guess I'll have to think on it, for now I need a uh, chauffeur. I think it's time a paid my shrink a visit-uh,"

* * *

_I'm baaaack!_

_Sorry if you're disappointed about the first chapter being short. The following chapters are longer._

_The title is after a song by Atreyu btw. Look up the lyrics it's a pretty cool song for Joker and Harley Quinn as well as this story._

_I wanted to give some insight on the Joker's relationship with his henchmen. I had him kinda bust into their apartment and look through there stuff to show how much power he holds over them. Because keep in mind Chuckles and Spades are criminals to. But there's a level of fear there. Even though they are big tough gangsters they know they can't cross the Joker. And he wants them to know that as well._

_The thing with the straws is not only because Joker doesn't want to mess up his sexy lipstick. I was thinking about his scars (NO I don't have a problem) and I thought they look kinda stiff. I thought they problem limit certain facial movements and it might be difficult for him to do everyday things like drinking a can of mountain dew._


	2. Disembowelment

Harley plucked the keys of her lap top. She searched the Joker on yahoo. Mostly news websites came up as a result. She decided to search his name under images. Several appeared on the screen. His mugshots were a few of them, he smiled broadly in them. Like a kid getting school pictures taken rather than a dangerous criminal. But Harley Quinn found them somewhat endearing and saved the images.

She scrolled down and saw another set of mug shots. Unlike his other pictures he wore no make up and wasn't smiling. Without the clown make up he was like a different person. He could only be identified as the Joker by his Glasgow smile stretching across his face. He seemed so average without the make up though. So young and non-threatening. It was strange.

Looking at the pictures of Mr. J it occurred to her she did not know much about him. She understood his psychosis but not so much about him or his past. There was a lot of things she wondered about him. Most of all she wondered who he was before the scars.

She gently ran a finger down the computer screen. Over his scars. She longed to touch them in reality. His scars were an object of fear and disgust the rest of society, but not to her.

Harley's cell phone began to ring. She rushed towards the counter to answer it. Excitedly she flipped open the phone.

"Hello," she greeted happily.

Her heart sank, it wasn't Mr. J, it was a wrong number. A Spanish speaking man spoke on the other line.

"Sir, you have the wrong number," Harley tired to explain.

The man continued to speak quickly in the foreign language, so she hung up.

"Damn," she cursed.

Just then there was a knock at the door. She thought about ignoring it. Her hair was a mess in two uneven pig tails and she was wearing clown make up. Old clown make up from the previous day. It smudged all over her face causing it to become mostly shades of pinks and greys.

"No one's home," she called despite the fact it made no sense.

She walked towards the door and looked through the peep hole.

"Oh my god!" she squealed after seeing who stood at the door.

Immediately she flung it open and through her arms around him.

* * *

"I missed you so much," Harley cried as she held Mr. J tighter, "I knew I'd see you again, I knew it," she sighed.

She closed her eyes taking in the moment. Trying to memorize every detail. She buried her face in his trench coat, it smelled like smoke and gasoline. She sighed again, it was like a scene in one of those romance novels. Well, almost. Usually in those stories the lead characters weren't murderous clowns. Still the concept was the same.

"Hey Harl, we better go inside. Ya probably don't want your neighbors to see this," he said

"Oh okay, c'mon," Harley took his gloved hand and led him inside. She had not really cared who saw however. She was not ashamed, she could have stood there forever.

After locking the door she turned around finding herself once again in his embrace. She stood on her tip toes and gently kissed him.

"Wait," she said pulling back, "I've got a surprise for you, just give me a few minutes to get ready," she began pulling the hair scrunchies out of her messy pig tails, "Wait here, I'll be right back,"

He watched her hurry off to the bathroom to primp, he smiled.

"Wow," she exclaimed after looking at her smeared face paint, "Uh, maybe more than a few minutes Mr. J," she warned, "Don't go any where,"

Joker sat on the couch, he looked around the room. Though he had visited Harley's little apartment before he had never taken the time to observe things. He stood and began to look around the room. He didn't know why he was curious about this girl, it was strange. He had been involved with plenty of women he knew absolutely nothing about. But something about Harleen Quinzel made him wonder. He heard the shower in the bathroom begin to run, she was completely distracted. Joker strode towards her bedroom.

* * *

Chuckles drove "home", back to the hideout. Joker had said he would call when he was finished with Harley. He assumed that meant his boss was going to kill the doctor. But he wasn't about to ask. If there was one thing he had learned about working with the clown was not to ask questions. About anything, because you just never knew how the Joker would react. Chuckles had worked for loose cannons before, but nothing like the Joker. No, he was an entirely different class of criminal.

Joker liked to make a point. Anytime a henchmen stepped out if line they quickly became an example of what unacceptable behavior was. And it was usually pretty gruesome, the clown was creative.

To the clown is wasn't just robbing a bank or taking a hostage. It was a game. A game of chance. Joker was the craziest bastard Chuckles had ever meant. But he liked the boss. He was a bit eccentric but he was cool, definitely paid well since he didn't care much about money.

He thought back to the morning's events. He had no idea why his boss seemed upset about his name suggestions. Chuckles was just thankful he decided to let it go. He had never got on the Joker's bad-side, he did not want to start now.

He pulled the van into the parking lot of the apartment complex.

"Home sweet home," he said to himself as he pulled the keys out of the ignition.

* * *

Harley's room was small but she had managed to cram a dresser, a night stand, a bed and a bookshelf into it. The bookshelf contained mostly nonfiction. Books on psychology and the criminal mind. She had some biographies on famous killers as well. Jack the Ripper seemed to be among her favorites, she owned several books on the serial killer.

Joker noticed how all Harleen's books seemed to be in order by subject. He felt the urge to mess them up but decided not to.

He continued to look through the room. He opened up her closet door finding a neat row of rather boring clothes. At the end was her new, red apparel as well as her Harley Quinn suit. Then he noticed a cardboard box on the closet's floor. He slid it out into the light and opened it, the box was full of trophies and meddles. Most of them for gymnastics, a few for ballet and the others were academic awards like perfect attendants and the honor roll.

At the bottom of the box he saw a picture of a little girl, maybe seven years, in a pink tutu. Her blond hair was tied in curly little pig tails, much like now. She smiled proudly revealing several missing baby teeth. This must be his little Harley Quinn. He put the box back into the closet and began to explore the rest of the apartment.

Her dresser was completely cleaned of, not a speck of dust lay on top. He opened up the dresser drawers. One contained socks and tights, boring. Underwear and bras in the next one, not quite as boring.

Joker headed for the night stand and pulled open a small drawer on it. Inside was several journals. He picked one up and flipped through it's pages.

He read through a journal entry from a few months ago.

_My mother called today, as usual she bothered me about marriage and having children. Doesn't she realize it is her fault I'm so alone in the first place? If she and dad hadn't been so strict maybe I would have found someone by now and had a family. I guess it just comes down to the fact I can never do anything right. No matter what I do I'll never be good enough. _

Joker rolled his eyes.

Could she be any more cliche? Joker had no sympathy. Did her "horrible" parents ever beat her unconscious? Did her father ever try to kill her? Probably not.

He wondered if Harleen had wrote anything about him. He removed another journal from the nightstand. This one was unfinished and did include her most recent patient.

_Today I met my new patient, The Joker. The therapy session did not go well, I'm afraid I'm to blame..._

Boring he skipped a few pages in search of something more interesting.

_What have I done! I don't know what I was thinking. The Joker and I... I can't even bring myself to write it. I just could not control myself. It's so hard to around him. I was no better than an animal and what frustrates me the most; I would do it again. There's just something about Mr. J. It's so stupid but maybe just maybe it's love? I don't know. There must be a logical explanation for my actions today... I just don't know what it is. Maybe I do love him._

He heard Harley drying her hair in the bathroom and decided to skip some more pages. He came to the day after he broke out of Arkham Asylum.

_I decided I'm done lying to myself. I do love him, I love Mr. J and what's wrong with that. Nothing. But society wants me to think it's wrong simply because he's... different. But I'm done following the rules. I love him, if only I had told him that. I should have never fought my feelings for him. Now Mr. J's gone, there's a chance I may never see him again. I feel so frustrated with myself. Mr. J was the first guy I have ever had feelings for. He's the first guy to ever show interest in me. Now he's gone... I promise never to make that mistake again. If we meet again he'll know I love him. I don't care who disapproves. I'm in love with the Joker._

He tried not to laugh. This added an interesting twist. His little Harley had never been in love before. How precious. And in Harley's naive little world she and her Mr. J would live happily ever after forever. They'd get married and settle down, raise little clown babies. All would be right with the world. He snickered, she was in for a surprise.

"I'm ready Mistah J," Joker heard her call using her Harley Quinn accent.

He returned the journals to her night stand.

Harley opened the bathroom door. She had applied new face paint and put her hair up in several little pony tails all over her head. She stepped out into the light revealing a black and red striped bustier with matching two-tone tights. She had bought them earlier on one of her shopping sprees shortly after meeting Mr. J.

"So uh, do ya like it," she twirled one of the pony tails around her finger.

"No, no I don't, I think ya'd look much better with it oofff," he walked towards her.

Harley began to giggle, "Can ya give me a hand?"

"Of course," he responded as he removed his purple trench.

He slowly pulled off one of the thigh high tights, the red one first. Followed by the black one. Harley felt herself shiver as his gloved fingertips lingered over her bare thighs. She throbbed in between her legs almost immediately. Joker stood up again and pulled her to him, pressing her freshly painted lips against his own. She wrapped her arms around his neck then slowly moved backwards toward her bed.

They climbed on to her bed. This time Harley straddled him kissing him as she undid his vest and tie. After successfully removing them she began to work on his shirt buttons. She moaned and began kissing down his neck, he laughed. For a moment it crossed her mind that the other tenants in the building might hear, but she didn't care. Soon his shirt was completely opened, with her eyes closed she kissed down his chest feeling various scars beneath her lips. It fascinated her.

Each one was a different size and shape. She didn't look at them instead let her mind make the mental image of each scar. They trailed all over his chest and some down his stomach. Harley followed them down and then back up again to his mouth. She licked his facial scars, his face paint was bitter. She ran her tongue carefully along each scar before plunging it into his mouth. Joker managed to stop laughing for a moment to return Harley's kiss.

But he couldn't help but giggle. It was so damn funny. He was in bed with his psychiatrist, she was licking his scars and ripping off his clothes. The situation was down right hilarious.

"That's it doc," he thought to himself, "Give in to those selfish desires, God knows I was never really your patient,"

He ran his hand up her back trying to remove her bustier. Joker succeeded in unbuckling it, he pulled it off and tossed it across the room. Then he rolled over positioning himself on top of Harley. As they continued kissing she removed his suspenders followed swiftly by this shirt and began to work off his pants.

Harley's mind was in a haze, she could not think of anything else but the here and now. She liked it. No cares, no worries, living for the moment and nothing else. Joker began biting her neck, she screamed and gasped. It did not matter who heard her now. He pulled of her red underwear and removed his own. Then he thrust into her. She moaned and grit her teeth.

"Oh Mistah J," she breathed.

"What was that, say it louder," he panted.

"Mistah J," Harley raised her voice.

He giggled, "Louder Harley Quinn,"

"Oh Mistah J," she yelled.

He laughed uncontrollable as she involuntarily grinded against him.

* * *

Slowly Harley calmed down. She panted heavily and smiled at her Mr. J, who now laid beside her. Feeling exhausted she pulled the covers over them and snuggled next to him.

"I love you," she said quietly.

Joker didn't respond to her, he wrapped an arm around her a stroked her crazy hairdo. She slowly fell asleep.

"I know you do," he thought.

Once she was in a deep sleep Joker considered leaving. That ought to break her spirit. Little Harley waking up to an empty bed. She would be crushed, she have to buy thirty cats and spend the rest of her days alone with her mother nagging her. Oh no! But he decided against it, he wanted to see what else he could make her do.

Harley was dependent on him. She was "in love" for the first time. What a fun little puppet she had the potential to be.

* * *

"It's been two hours man," Chuckles looked at his watch, "What do you think Joker's doin' to Dr. Quinzel,"

He, Spades, Mime and a new guy who had not yet been named sat watching television.

"I don't wanna think about," Spades shook his head.

"Shame though, I mean, you guys ever seen this bitch?" Chuckles continued.

The other men shook their heads.

"She is fiiine," he smirked.

"Damn, you're such a horny bastard," laughed Spades.

"Man, I know," he replied, "Hey you, new guy, go get me a beer," he nodded towards the nervous little man at the other side of the room.

Cautiously he stood up an headed for the kitchen.

"Yo, is he uh, ya know," Chuckles made circles with his finger at his temple.

Spades shrugged, "Dunno, he sure doesn't seem right though,"

Most of Joker's men had some mental issues. Joker's sane henchmen knew there boss did as well, though he insisted otherwise. It was something the they had become accustom to, though it was still a bit unnerving.

The man returned from the kitchen with a beer. He handed it to Chuckles avoiding eye contact.

"Damn I wonder what's takin' so long," Spades cringed at the thought of what the Joker was now doing to his victim.

"Who knows, hey you've worked for him the longest right," Chuckles asked.

Spades nodded, "Yep,"

"What's the sickest thing you've ever seen him do?" Chuckles took a swig of beer.

"Cool sick or disgusting sick?" questioned Spades.

He rolled his eyes, "Disgusting,"

"Nah dude I don't wanna scare new guy," he shook his head.

"Hey he's gotta learn what he got himself into," laughed Chuckles.

"Fine, but know you're a sick fuck," he began, "This one time I saw him skin a guy,"

"Oooh man, you said you don't wanna scare him and you bust out wit that shit, look at him over there," he pointed to the new henchmen, eyes wide with fear.

"Ya wanted to know the sickest thing I've seen him do," shrugged Spades.

"Yeah man but I thought it'd be like disembowelment or cuttin' some dudes mouth up,"

"Disembowelment? That ain't bad?" chuckled Spades.

"Not as bad as skinin' a guy,"

"I dunno, have you ever seen someone get disemboweled it's pretty bad," Mime spoke up, "Smells awful,"

The new guy held his knees against his chest rocking back and forth slightly.

"You two are full of shit, he skinned someone. Like a fuckin' potato!" laughed Chuckles, "Was the dude alive?"

"Well yeah Chuckles, why would you skin a dead body?" said Spades.

"I don't know man. Cause the Joker's insane maybe," he suggested, "Wait a sec, what did he do with the skin?"

The newest henchmen threw up.

"Aaaaw shit," Spades exclaimed, the henchmen began laughing.

"Man you better clean that up or the boss will skin yo ass," Chuckles gestured at the large spot of vomit.

He threw up again.

"Damn boy how much is inside you," cringed Mime.


	3. Resignation

Harley slid on a lacey pair of boy shorts and a matching bra.

"Hey hun can ya get me my shirt," asked Joker who was also dressing.

She picked up the shirt on the other side of the room.

"No," she said playfully and put it on herself, "Besides, I wanna know how you got all your scars,"

"That's a lotta scar stories Har-ley," he looked at his bare chest full of bullet holes and knife wounds.

"I know," she buttoned his shirt halfway, "I've got time,"

Suddenly the phone rang.

Harley groaned in frustration, "It's probably my boss, she won't stop calling me,"

"I'll get it," Joker zipped his purple pinstripe pants.

"No," Harley squealed, she rushed toward the phone before the clown, "Hello," she said picking it up.

"Dr. Quinzel?" it was Commissioner Gordon.

"Who is it?" Joker whispered poking at her like a little boy.

"The police Commissioner," Harley answered while covering the phone.

She flopped down onto the couch expecting a long winded conversation. Mr. J sat beside her.

"I'm going to get right to the point, we have reason to believe you may be in danger," explained Gordon.

"In danger of what?" she asked confused.

"Well, the Joker," the commissioner said.

"Oh yeah sorry, I forgot," giggled Harley.

"What's he sayin'?" Joker poked her again.

Harley covered the phone, "He says I'm in danger of you,"

Joker laughed.

"Shhh, he'll hear you," shushed Harley returning to the phone, "Sorry Commissioner you were saying?" she twisted a pony tail around her finger.

"Dr. Quinzel this is actually quite serious,"

"I'm sorry it's just, I dunno, why would I be in any danger?" she asked.

"Well obviously you had a relationship with the Joker," said Gordon.

Harley cut in, "Yes a patient doctor relationship, that's all,"

Joker giggled and began kissing Harley's neck.

"I assumed that doctor, anyway we've also been informed the Joker was particularly interested in you,"

"Who said that?" Harley recalled her last therapy session with Jonathan Crane.

Her mood became serious, Harleen Quinzel come back into reality. Though Joker was now on top of her kissing and biting down her neck.

"That isn't important, what is important is your safety," the police commissioner explained.

Mr. J's hand trailed down her body and to her crotch.

"Oooh wow," she moaned.

"Dr. Quinzel? Are you alright?" asked Gordon.

"Uh huh," Harleen answered, "So what do you suggest I do to - ohh," she moaned again as Joker felt in between her legs.

"Are you sure everything's okay?" questioned a very confused Gordon.

"Yyyeah never been better," she ground her teeth, "You were saying?"

"I wasn't saying anything... you were,"

"Oh right, um I think I oh um perfectly safe, ooohmy god," Harley began, "Thank you for calling though, oh,"

"At least go out or go to a friend's house or out to the mall, somewhere you aren't alone. Are you alone?" he asked.

Joker licked her face.

"No, I mean yes," she stuttered, "Yes I am all alone and I think you're right, I shouldn't be. So I'm going to leave right away," she paused, "Uh bye," Harleen panicked and hung up the phone, "This is bad," she cried.

Mr. J returned to his seat on the couch, "What you think you can do better, lay it on me,"

"Not that Mistah J," she lovingly ran a finger over a knife wound on his arm, "Jonathan Crane knows about us, he's already given the police some information. I don't know what though. But I just know he'll tell them everything,"

"And?" asked the clown.

"And then the police will suspect me for breaking you out of Arkham,"

"Dooon't worry about it Harley, Jonny's a nut case, no one will be-lieve him," he said.

"Ya really think so?" she laid her head on his shoulder.

"Yeeah," Joker stood up letting Harley fall on the couch.

He retrieved his coat and cell phone then began texting Chuckles.

"But what if they do believehim, I mean, he does struggle with a split personality but he's had that under control for some time. What if the do trust him. I'll never work in the psychiatric field again,"

Harleen was getting the best of her with her constant worrying.

"Ac-uall-y, you'd probably go to jail," added Joker, "But they won't listen to him, trust me,"

She stood to hug her man in search of comfort. But Mr. J didn't return the embrace.

"Really need my shirt back Harley," he said.

Harley whined, "Are you leavin' already, Mistah J?" she slowly unbuttoned the shirt and seductively slid it off her bare shoulders, "Ya sure ya can't stay a little longer?"

"I got people to see, things to destroy," he replied blankly.

Harley handed him the shirt disappointed.

Joker gathered the remainderof his clothes and got dressed. Harley slipped her arms around him, holding him closely from behind as he put on his gloves.

"When will I see ya again?" she asked, still pouting somewhat.

"Who knows, maybe never. Maybe I'll walk outside this building and get shot," he smiled as she held him tighter, "Or, or maybe I'll finally get the Batman to break his one rule,"

"Would he really do that Mistah J," he grinned even more hearing the concern in her voice.

"Only if we're lucky,"

"Don't say that," Harleen let go of him and faced him, "Please don't say that,"

"Well Harl, I dunno if you know this but..." he began, "Eventually we're aaall gonna die," he leaned close and whispered.

He put on his trench coat and adjusted the collar.

"Ya just gotta live ev-ery-day like it's your last,"

"I know that," she replied, "I just scares me when you say that. I mean, I don't understand why you have to do this. I wanted to break you out of Arkham so we could be together. Because I don't think I can live my life without you," she attempted to hold his hands.

He pulled away from her grasp. "Do what? You mean fighting with Batsy?"

Harleen nodded.

"Harley, Harley, Harley let me uh, explain something to you," he walked towards the window, "See I'm an artist aaand this," he gestured to the vast city scape on the other side of the window, "This is my can-vas. And on it I will paint a picture of what the human race reeally is," Joker explained his voice full of malice.

"Then what does Batman have to do with anything?" Harleen stood beside him now.

Joker sighed, frustrated that she was not getting his point, "He iiiis the only hope this city's got. He's incorruptible but if III can break him..." he shrugged, "Well the rest of Gotham will go down with him,"

"So is this about revenge? Because of these?" she stroked his left scar.

Joker hostilely grabbed her hand, tightly squeezing her fingers he led it back down to her side.

"No," he shook his head, "It's about chaos. Un-yielding, uncontrollable, chaos-uh," he licked his lips.

"I still don't understand," she said softly.

"You can't un-der-stand everything Harley,"

He glanced down at the street seeing a grey van pulling up to the side walk.

"There's my ride," he declared, "Kiss me good-bye,"

He pulled her close and kissed her hard on the mouth.

"Just in case we don't meet again," he said after pulling away.

Harleen closed her eyes, clearly distressed. She hated to hear that from him, knowing it was all to true. He laughed hoarsely at her anguish.

"Cheer up," he said before playfully smacking her bottom and heading for the door.

* * *

Harleen stood at the window watching the van pull away and speed into traffic.

His words still rang in her ears long after he had gone. Why had he taken death so lightly? She hated that, because it was so real. It was very possible she would never see him again. Joker made her feel things she had never felt before. She could not lose him now.

Harleen went back to her darkly lit bedroom to get dressed. She pulled on a sweater and a pair of jeans.

Death was inevitable, that was true. But why couldn't Mr. J be more careful. The man had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever. He just didn't seem to care. All he cared about was proving his point, showing people who they really were and corrupting the Batman.

Batman, Harley hated him for this. This was his fault. Mr. J was going to get himself killed because of him. This wasn't what she had in mind when she broke him out of Arkham. She wanted so badly to convince him to give up on the bat and leave Gotham. Maybe she still could, in time. Just maybe.

Harleen had nearly forgot about Gordon's recent phone call. It had brought more things to worry about. She wondered what Jonathan had said about she and the Joker. And just how much did he intend on sharing. She definently did not want to go to jail.

The thought of prison made her cringe. Girls like herself did not go to jail. She was good, besides breaking her boyfriend out of an insane asylum. She couldn't last two days in a place like that. Besides that Mr. J needed her. She was his only hope for redemption in her mind.

She pulled out the hair bands holding her hair in tiny pig-tails. And began wiping of her make up.

Harleen Quinzel didn't commit any crimes, Harley Quinn did.

"That's it," she said to her reflection after wiping the last bit of white face paint off her cheeks.

Batman and the Joker were both criminals. They both had aliases. No one knew who was behind Batman's cowl or Joker's makeup. Harley knew hardly anything of the Batman, but she did Joker. She recalled what he had said during therapy about how the Joker was who he really was. Harley tried hard to comprehend the statement. By letting the Joker take over Mr. J made himself something more. The clown costume wasn't because he was a "freak" like everyone thought.

Harley picked up a container filled half full of face paint, "The Joker is feared," she said staring at the makeup, "He is more threatening and powerful than the man behind the make up,"

It all made since now. Accepting her Harley Quinn persona for everyday life could drastically change her circumstance. Harley Quinn wasn't intimidated by the police or jail. The clown girl did what she wanted, regardless of the consequences. Harley Quinn was not afraid, Harleen was.

Harley put the face paint back and went in search of her coat. Maybe she would take Commissioner Gordon's advice about getting out of her apartment for a while.

She had lots of work to do. It was time to create Harley Quinn.

* * *

Joan Leeland made herself some hot tea before heading into the living room. She looked at her watch, eight thirty. It was going to be a long night, she had lots to do after taking on extra patients in the last few weeks. She moved some cardboard boxes off her desk to make room for her paperwork and steaming teacup. She wished her ex husband would get his things out of her apartment already. It had been almost a month since their divorce and he still had belongings of his at her residence.

It pissed her off but she assumed it was partly her fault. Her ex did not like the fact that she was a strong women, focused on her career. And so she told him to leave. Dr. Joan Leeland would not allow herself to be treated in such a way.

She began doing paperwork when she heard a knock at the door.

Dr. Leeland answered the door to find a young women in a leather trench coat and hat. Her back turned towards her.

"Can I help you?" she asked irritated that she had been interrupted.

The women in the trench turned to face her.

"Dr. Quinzel?" asked Joan, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to give you this," Harley handed Dr. Leeland a manila folder.

She looked at the folder, "Uh, come in," she stepped back, "Now what is this,"

"It's my diagnoses on the Joker," Harley walked into her bosses apartment.

"I see," she shut the door.

"Inside you'll find my notes on the patient as well," Harley put her hands in her coat pocket, "Please, read over my diagnoses, it was quite difficult. The Joker is very complicated,"

Dr. Leeland flipped through the papers the folder contained.

"Anti-social personality disorder, patient suffers form Manic episodes, most likely abused as a child," she read through the folder, Leeland sat down on her couch, "Interesting. But why are you giving this to me?"

"Well, assuming the Batman brings the Joker back to Arkham," Harley began, "You'll know what to treat him for. Since I won't be there to treat him,"

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"Nothing just go back to reading my notes,"

The doctor nodded and looked through the folder, "I assume that means you are quiting,"

"That's right," responded Harley.

"Well, perhaps it's for the best. Not everyone can work with the criminally insane," shrugged her boss.

She looked up from the folder to find a pocket pistol aimed at her face.

"What the hell are you doing," she breathed in shock and horror.

"This is my resignation boss," Harley replied in a nonchalant tone of voice.

Dr. Leeland stared at the small hand gun, "If you wish to quit, simply do so. Why are you doing this?"

"For Mistah J," she slipped into her accent subconsciously.

"I don't understand Dr. Quinzel," Dr. Leelands voice shook slightly.

HarleyQuinn shook her head, "Ya know, ya can't understand everything. And I told ya already call me Harley, or betta yet..." she pulled of her beret letting strands of two tone black and red hair fall to her shoulders, "Call me Harley Quinn,"

She fired. Dr. Leeland was killed instantly splattering blood all over the manila folder.

Harley Quinn calmly exited Joan Leeland's apartment, closing the door behind her. As she walked down the hall she applied white face paint.

* * *

_Sorry about switching from Harleen to Harley to Harley Quinn, I know it's confusing. She's currently struggling with her identity, obviously. Hence the rapid mood changes. But that goes along with losing your mind. You'll probably find that a lot in chapters to come. With she and the Joker. I saw somewhere, I'm thinking in the Batman comics, that Joker has a psychological condition where he constantly re-invents his personality. So he can go from being really childish and funny to dark and homicidal. As well as be really affectionate (licking her face and molesting her) to not wanting anything to do with her. This is a side you'll see from him more often the longer he and Harley are together. So don't worry _NinjaBxtch :D.

_I really liked in Tim Burton's Batman how the Joker talked about being a homicidal artist. I found it hilarious probably because I am one myself, without the homicidal part. Anyway I had to use that._

_I know no one cares about Dr. Leeland's love life but I thought it would be an interesting contrast to Joker and Harley's relationship. Leeland is a strong, career woman who doesn't need a man, Harley is absolutely dependent on Joker and will do anything he wants._

_Harley's no longer a blond. I thought since Dark Knight Joker obviously dyes his hair Harley Quinn should as well. Sorry if you don't like it. Here costume will also change again because of TDK Joker. Christopher Nolan had said that Heath Ledger gave the character sort of a punk rock look, so Harley will be a bit of a punk to._


	4. To Do List

Harley turned on the news and walked back to her bedroom. She wanted to listen to the coverage on Dr. Leeland's murder while she tried on her new Harley Quinn costumes. She had spent the entire day shopping before stopping by her boss's apartment for a "visit".

She dumped a plastic bag of clothing on to her bed. Corsets, tights, boots, all of it her signature colors; black and red. She tried on a corset top covered in a black and red diamond pattern. It looked perfect, the corset fit just right hugging her narrow waist. This one was her favorite, she hoped Mr. J liked it too. Harley added a leather moto jacket to the outfit.

"Perfect," she thought.

Just then she heard the name Joan on the news, she rushed into the living room to hear it better.

"Dr. Leeland, the head psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum was found dead in her apartment last night. Her neighbor, Bill Palmer, had heard a gun shot coming from her apartment and went to check on the doctor immediately," reported a female newscaster, the screen began showing an interview with Dr. Leeland's "hero" of a neighbor.

Harley rolled her eyes as she watched the middle aged man on the television screen. She had shot the doctor and casually walked out of the apartment. He obviously had not made sure Leeland was okay long after the fact, he had not left his own apartment until he felt safe.

"Pathetic," Harley Quinn scoffed at the man.

He spoke as if he practically rescued Dr. Leeland. As if he burst into the apartment just after the murderer made a mysterious escape and then gave Joan CPR but failed as she died in his arms.

After his brief interview the anchor women appeared once again on the screen.

"It is unclear who killed the doctor or why. It as been said that she and her husband were in the process of getting a divorce. But nothing is confirmed. Police are currently at the scene of Dr. Joan Leeland's death checking for fingerprints or any DNA that might tell us who committed this crime against one of Gotham's respected citizens,"

Harley froze, she could not remember if she had worn gloves that night or not. She panicked, what if she forgot? She began pacing attempting to retrace her steps and recall what she had done before she shot Leeland. Her heartbeat quickened, she just could not remember. Her second murder, her first one alone and she had to go and mess it up. Even if she had remembered to wear gloves they could still find a strand of hair, then it would be all down hill from there. Jail was no longer a big threat to Harley Quinn. But death was. Besides that she could not bare the thought of separation from Mr. J. The woman on the TV continued to speak about the murder.

"Her nose is totally fake, her boobs are to," Harley thought frustrated, her mind racing, she had an uncontrolable urge to find the anchor woman and blow her away.

She pressed power on the television set and sat down in the center of the living room floor. She got an idea.

"I'll call Mistah J," she said to herself, "He'll know what to do,"

She stood up and raced around her small apartment in search of her cell phone. She dug through her purse feeling around for the phone. Then it occurred to her, he had told her not to call him. She groaned making this realization just as she found her misplaced phone. Maybe she could just go see him. Mr. J never said she could not come and visit him. She ran out of her room towards the door. Then she realized she had absolutely no idea where her boyfriend lived. That and she was not wearing any pants.

Harley threw herself face down on her couch. She grabbed a near by pillow to scream into.

"What's wrong with you Harley?" she asked herself after letting several high pitched screams into the soft fabric of the pillow, "Things were goin' great, just perfectly. Ya had no boss, Mr. J, complete freedom to do whateva ya wanted and ya had to go and mess things up,"

She shook her head and drug herself slowly back to her bedroom. Harley picked up the cell phone she had dropped when she sprinted to the door. She stared at it, she would just have to wait until he called her.

* * *

It was nearly eleven o clock at Joker's hide out. All of his henchmen were still asleep, exuasted from their late night jobs. Their boss however, could not sleep at this moment, even if he tried. The clown couldn't not possibly rest, he had way to much to accomplish. He had spent the whole night wide awake, making bombs and doing some major brain storming.

He had an idea for an aerosol poison which would cause spasms of laughter to it's victim. The laughter would eventually lead to a slow painful death for the unlucky individual forced to breathe in this toxin. Though he was not sure just how to make the connection with laughter and death. He jotted the ideas down on a note pad, surrounded by doodles of the Batman. He was beginning to miss the bat. He hadn't seen him since he was put in Arkham last. That was well over a week ago. The situation frustrated Joker. It was the police's fault he never saw the caped crusader anymore. They had him on the run. But Batman was no criminal, he shouldn't be treated like one. It was almost insulting to him being a criminal himself. The vigilante had not killed those people, no way. He had proved that to Joker when he tossed him off the side of a building only to catch him and pull him back up. If he didn't the guts to end the Joker's life he certainly would not end the lives of any one else.

It was daylight outside, that meant absolutly no chance of a bat sighting anyway. For now Joker was quickly becoming bored.

He flipped through his notebook, he knew he had written a "to do" list somewhere inside it. If it could be called that. Eventually he found his list, it wasn't in any particular order. Just a few notes, things he should do, ideas or people he could kill.

"Ah ha," he began reading over the page scribbled hastily with black ink. One spot in particular caught his eye, _Joe DiMarco: new mob boss, doesn't like me, plans on taking me out and regaining Gotham's underworld HA HA HA HA. _The _HA HAs_ scribbled all over the page in bold red ink. Mocking the new mob boss's ignorance, obviously the man did not know him very well.

The Joker suddenly knew what to do today. He hurried out the door to gather his "troops" and begin their search for Mr. DiMarco.

* * *

_I know, I make you wait and then come out with a kinda shitty chapter, very sorry. It's very short. And I proof read instead of my sister, so there may be some mistakes. I'm currently working on some fics with Sweet Coldkiss on a separate account. (Sweet Coldshallots if you're interested) So it made me a little late. Don't worry though, I still intend to finish this one. I'm just working on more than one at the moment._

_Okay the thought of a Joker to do list cracks me up. It'd be like death, explsion, death, death, death, scar story, death, death, take a break, death, death, explosion, death. But I guess he doesn't really plan things. Oh well it's in there._

_In case you've never watched any of the Batman cartoons or read the comics, the poison Joker is brain storming about is Joker Venom. I am not sure whether he'll eventually make some or not. I just wanted to make a reference about it. It's fun stuff ya know, I mean you die laughing and smiling. Anyway..._

_I am assuming Sal Maroni died when Two-Face shot his driver and the car flipped and everything. And Joe DiMarco isn't a real batman mobster, I couldn't think of one that really fit the part in this fic so I made my own. The name came from a mafia name generator._


	5. Dr Jonathan Crane

The Joker and crew's van pulled into a little Italian restaurant in the narrows, clearly a Mafia front. They were told that DiMarco, the newest leader of the Falcone crime family, would be there that afternoon.

As the group entered the building a waitress gasped, almost dropping a tray of empty plates and glasses. The clown ignored her until he spotted Joe DiMarco. The man sat towards the back of the room eating a plate of spaghetti with two body guards behind him.

"I'm going to have a word with uh, Mr. DiMarco," he explained to the henchmen behind him.

Spades nodded from behind his clown mask, "Do ya need us boss,"

"III don't think so, you'll know if I do," he made his way towards the end of the restaurant, "Mind if I sit down," he said approaching the mob boss.

The man looked up at the Joker, "Actually I do clown boy," he said.

"It's uh, it's Joker," he sat down anyway, "And yoooou are Di-Mar-co. Right?"

"That's right. I thought the bat put you away,"

"Well yea, he did," the clown nodded, "But obv-ious-ly I escaped, since I'm sitting here,"

"What the hell do ya want anyways?" the man across the table said in a frustrated voice.

"You're right, I'll get right to the point," he licked his lips, "I heeard that you said some uh, not so nice things about me,"

DiMarco sat back in his chair looking at the clown with mild disgust, "Dat's it, you came down here to give me some sorta lecture? You think I'ma child? I mean what the fuck?"

Joker rolled his eyes, "No, no I-ah want to be sure these things are true," he made a popping sound with his lip, "Before I do anything... rash," his voice lowered to a serious tone, the clown gave him a side ways look.

"Are you threatening me? Funny boy,"

"No, it's mooore of a warn-ing," he pursed his lips, "See, I wanted to know what ya said so I would know just how to uh, re-act,"

Joe DiMarco cast him an angry look, "Ya wanna know what I said? I said that I was taking this city back, I'm gettin' pretty damn tired of freak shows like you and ya little gang of clowns controlin' everything. Dat's my job. I said given the chance I'd wipe dat smug smile of your face for good,"

"Freak," Joker repeated the word to himself. He giggled softly.

"What's so funny?" the mobster growled.

"It's pretty noble of ya Joey, taking back Gotham, sounds a bit like the late Har-vey Den-t don'tcha think?"

"I want it back to a time when people like me were in control and bastards like you were wrapped in a strait jacket," DiMarco coldly clarified his statement.

Joker let out a few more high pitched giggles.

The mob boss shook his head, "You are seriously fucked up pal. Why don't you go back to ya little fun house or wherever the hell you live, just get out of my sight,"

He tried to control his laughter, but it was hard not to enjoy DiMarco's obvious frustration, "I suppose you're right, I have alot of im-por-tant things ta do," he stood from his seat and turned to go, "Oh," he said stopping short and turning to face the other man, "What you said before about uh, wiping that smug smile off my faace," he giggled, "I'm afraid you'll be veeery disappointed. It's perminate. Remind me to tell ya that story some time,"

Joker exited the building, casually grabbing a soda off someone's table as he did.

* * *

"I don't get it," Chuckles said to Spades, who simply nodded a reply.

The henchmen didn't bother to respond verbally. He was concentrated on playing Resident Evil on the PlayStation the henchmen found in an apartment.

They crashed in Spade's apartment that evening waiting for more orders from the Joker. Since those orders often came at random times. Spades and Chuckles sat on the couch, Mime stayed on an old recliner drinking a beer. The untitled new guy was no where to be found tonight, but he usually kept to himself.

"Really, we rammed all over the damn narrows lookin' for that guy, we finally find him and the boss don't do nothing. I mean I thought we was gonna kill this dude. I wanna know why didn't he knife the mutha fucker? What's he waitin' fo," Chuckles stated almost pouting.

"The right moment-uh," a voice behind them answered.

"Shit," Chuckles whispered, he slowly turned to see the Joker leaning against the door way.

Spades quickly dropped the game controller, all three henchmen tensed at the boss's sudden appearance.

"Lemme explain something to ya Chuckles," Joker stepped in front of him, knife in hand examining the silver blade, "Some people, I just need to punish. Ooothers..." he waved the knife over his face, "Can be used aaas teach-ing tools. A little example of what can happen when you mess with me,"

Chuckles swallowed hard, "I understand boss,"

He continued to stare at the knife, "So there's no uh, doubt on your part, iiis there? Haven't lost any respect for your boss?"

"No sir,"

Joker put the knife away after what seemed like an eternity to Chuckles.

"That's good," he nodded, " I wouldn't want to lose ya, I'm running low on henchies as it is. Whiich reminds me, I've got a job for you gen-tle-men. As I said we're missing some muuch needed staff, sooo," he clapped his hands together, "I need you three to make a visit to Arkham tonight. I'd do it myself but I've got work to do. Ya wanna know what I'm doin'?" he said eagerly.

The henchmen silently nodded, not wanting to dissapoint their boss.

"IIt's a laughing gas," he paused, "Only it kills ya!" he exclaimed straiting his arms out, "Only problem is linking the uh, laughter and the death together," he gestured by interlocking his fingers, "Buuut I'll figure something out, so anyway Arkham. Everybody up for it?" he questioned emphasizing the "t" ending it, "Good," he stated after getting no response.

He strode out the door as if nothing had happened leaving his men to calm down. Giving them a little scare every once in a while was good for them. They needed to know if they stepped out of line he'd blow out there brains and then finger paint with there blood; it made for a much better work environment. Henchmen didn't get cocky when the understood they could easily be replaced.

Joker made his way back toward his office. He had to do some more thinking to night. He had big decisions to make on the subject of Joe DiMarco's death as well as his laughing gas project.

Just then the cell phone inside his pocket began to go off. He removed the phone to look at the number, it was Harley's.

"Hel-lo," he answered it.

"Hey puddin'" she greeted cheerfully, "Look I know ya said how I ain't sposta call you, I know ya probably real busy but I really need ta see ya,"

Joker sighed, slightly aggrivated by her whiney tone of voice coming through the phone.

"Yeeeah I am,"

"Oh I'm so sorry Mistah J, I just I hate bein' here all alone," she continued, "See I shot my boss last night and I'm kinda nervous about the cops cops comin' now," She was, Harley had locked herself in the bathroom for most of the day, "I'd feel sooo much betta if I had a big, strong man to protect me Mistah J,"

"I hafta wor- you shot your boss!" Joker exclaimed excitedly, "All by yourself?"

"Yeah,"

Joker couldn't help but feel partly responsible. In a good way that is. Harley Quinn was like his own little creation. He had molded her delicate mind like clay. Now she was becoming a killer as well. He felt a familiar pride like he had when he found Harvey "Two-Face" Dent was lose in Gotham taking lives right and left. Joker had inspired him and now Harley. He had her right where he wanted her now, it gave him an idea.

"Ya know. maybe you should come here," he suggested.

Harley gasped, "Really Mistah J, ya really mean it?"

He held the phone out as she let out several shrieks of excitement.

"Can I come right now? Where do ya live? What all should I bring, I mean is this a long term thing Mistah J? Is it? Is it!?"

"Hooow about I come there,"

"Okay Mistah J, I'll see ya soon! Oh I love you so much!" she squealed.

Joker ended the call and grabbed his trench coat, as well as a machine pistol laying on his desk. He doubted his driving would be very inconspicuous, he would most likely need it if pulled over.

* * *

"Damn this place is creepy at night," Spades looked up at the large building looming before them.

"Arkham's creepy during the day man," Chuckles gripped the van's wheel, "I hate comin' here,"

"You are just full of complaints aren'tchya," Spade said, "Be careful about that, if you slip up around Joker to much he will gut you like a fish,"

The other henchmen gave him a blank look, "Thanks man, that's real comfortin'," he said with sarcastic gratitude.

Spades shrugged, "I'm tryin' to help ya, you know the boss doesn't take to kindly to whiners,"

Chuckles nodded.

"Hey man over there," Mime directed their attention to a pair of guards car pulling to Arkham.

"Looks like our way in," Spades produced a knife out of his coat pocket, he looked towards Chuckles, "Wanna stay here so we can make a quick get-away?"

"Sure," he had no problem staying behind.

"Bitch," Mime laughed and punched his arm from the back seat.

Mime and Spades climbed out of the van and began approaching the two unsuspecting guards. The driver began to exit his car just in time to be stabbed with Mime's bowie knife. The man let out a sharp gasp before dropping to the pavement. Mime quickly removed his uniform before it became soiled with blood. Spades did the same on the passengers side of the vehicle. After throwing on the uniforms they casually walked in to Arkham as if to start there shift. If they acted as though they knew what they were doing, no one would question them.

Since it was getting late Arkham was quite empty. Only a few guards and nurses had the night shift. It was hard to find people willing to work at the asylum, particularly at night. Everything was still and quiet.

The henchmen turned down the hallway closest to the door. Mime silently appeared behind the guard patrolling the hall and stabbed his knife unforgivingly into the man's back. Spades began unlocking doors with the pass key, which had came with the uniforms. Most of the patients inside remained asleep. He cocked his handgun and made his way into a cell to tell the inmate of the Joker's offer. Freedom from Arkham in exchange they would work for the Clown Prince of Crime.

The sound of the unlocking cell doors woke Jonathan Crane, who was a light sleeper anyway. He rubbed his eyes and stumbled out of bed towards the small window on his door. Outside he saw two guards releasing Arkam's inmates. A group of orange clad men forming around the two.

"What are you doing?" he exclaimed to Mime who was nearest to his cell, "These are mentally unstable patients you cannot let them out," he remained confused by the situation.

Mime noticed him shouting from his cell and stepped towards the former doctor. At that moment Crane noticed a machine pistol in the guard's hands. Jonathan realized they were not guards at all.

"Who do you think you are?" Mime chuckled at the outspoken mental patient.

"I am Dr. Jonathan Crane, the better question is who do you think you are?" he retorted.

"Did he just say Crane?" Spades made his way towards the two, "You're the Scarecrow,"

"I prefer Dr. Crane," he sounded somewhat disgusted, "I haven't struggled with those parts of my personality for several months," he lied somewhat.

Spades thought back to the Joker's laughing gas idea, "So you made that uh, fear gas crap right?"

"If by fear gas crap you mean my weaponized hallucinogen then yes, I created that compound,"

The henchmen nodded, "We're recruiting some new employees for our boss, the Joker. Do ya wanna come with us?"

Jonathan rolled his eyes at Spade's offer, "And become a common lackey like the two of you?" he scoffed, "I'd rather rot in this cell,"

Though in the back of his mind he was tempted by the chance at freedom. It had been hell being trapped in the asylum he once worked in. Part of him wanted desperately to go with the henchmen, the Scarecrow part.

"Ya know for a little man you gotta big mouth," Mime responded threateningly, "How would ya like them brains a your's splattered on the wall, how smart wouldya be then?"

Spades remained calm and shook his head no towards his co-worker, "Joker is working on somethin you'd be interested in,"

Scarecrow made himself known to Jonathan at that moment. Commanding him to go along, "I doubt that," he finally said, "The Joker is a mad dog. He has no logic or reasoning to the things he does. Only an imbecile could work under that kind of authority and I refuse to be reduced to your level,"

"Fine," sighed Spades, "Mime do what ya want with him,"

Mime unlocked the cell door and pulled out his knife.

"Wait," Jonathan took a step back raising his hands, "Perhaps I can reconsider, what's Joker's idea?"

"I dunno," Spades said casually, "Something about laughing gas, don't have alotta details. Ya know I'm not that smart,"

Jonathan laughed nervously, "I struggle with a split personilty, surely you didn't believe I was being serious. No, never," he tried to sound confident.

"So your coming with?" asked Spades.

The inmate bit his lip and nodded yes.

* * *

_Gah I'm to tired for author's notes..._


	6. The New Henchmen

Crane slid out of the van, miffed by the cramped car ride to the Joker's hide out. He straighted out his orange Arkham uniform. He hated being in such close proximity with the other inmates in the car. They had managed to cram ten in, including himself. One patient had began to act up and didn't survive the ride home. Jonathan's ears were still ringing from the sound of the gunshot. Though he was fortunate he had not been sitting by the now dead man. The man's seat mates' colorful jumpsuits were now splattered with blood and gelatinous chunks of brains.

He looked to the apartment complex before him, "Why did I agree to this," Jonathan said to himself.

_Because genius, there was a man about to kill you if you said no. _Great, the Scarecrow was speaking loud and clear tonight. He often grew tired of the Scarecrow, he was very bossy. If there was one thing Jonathan Crane hated was being ordered around. However the other half of his personality did have it's advantages. When he allowed the Scarecrow to dominate he hungered for power, he could not get enough. His other half fed off of people's terror as opposed to using it for research. He was fearless and feared. Things that came in handy when taking over Gotham. Scarecrow committed acts which Jonathan couldn't bring himself to do with out a long explanation of why. He was a proud man, Scarecrow wasn't. Scarecrow didn't give a damn and sometimes Jonathan liked that feeling.

"Whatcha waitin' for pretty boy? Get inside," Chuckles shoved past him.

_The man is right Jonathan, get moving. Stop draggin' your feet, this is good for you. Trust me, you needed out of Arkham. _He begrudgingly made his way inside.

Spades led the group of new henchmen to Joker's office. The door was wide open, inside the clown sat at his desk making out with a scantily clad girl. Spades knocked on the door frame.

"Um boss," he spoke up, "I hate to interrupt but we got the new henchmen,"

"Mmhmm," he said still playing tonsil hockey with the women in his lap, "Good job," he stopped for a moment to say in an uninterested tone.

Jonathan watched the Joker with disgust as he ran his hands up the women's thighs and into her short skirt. He had absolutely no shame.

"The Scarecrow's one of em'," the man added, "Thought that might help with your laughing gas idea,"

"What," Joker pulled the girl off him by one of her pig tails, she seemed to struggle against him wanting more.

"Get over here," Spades pulled Jonathan by the arm before he pushed into the doorway.

"Hey it's Jonny! C' mere, sit down," the clown looked around the room, "Doesn't look like I have another chair, don't sit," he shrugged.

Reluctantly he made his way into the room.

"Uh Spades, show the new guys around," the henchmen walked off leaving Jonathan alone with the Joker.

He didn't like being around the clown in Arkham's rec room. At least there he was surrounded by security cameras and orderlies. Here they were all alone. With the exception of the girl on leeched to him. By now she had calmed down and wrapped her arms around Joker's neck cuddling tightly against him. Though Jonathan was sure she wouldn't do much good if for some reason Joker went off and decided to kill him.

"So uh, I guess you know Har-ley,"

Jonathan drew a blank and silently shook his head no.

"Don't be silly Jonathan," Harley turned to face him, "Ya know me,"

He looked at her black and red attire with matching hair. He assumed she was a prostitute judging by she and the Joker's actions. Not to mention her outfit. Everything she was wearing was tight and somewhat gaudy. As for the clown makeup decorating her face, he thought was just the Joker's bizarre clown theme.

"Lemme refresh your memory," she sat forward on Joker's knee, she put her fingers around her eyes making "glasses", "How does that make you feel," she rattled off a typical psychiatrist line.

"Dr. Quinzel?" he recognized her blue eyes.

He knew of she and Joker's relationship after he had been so willing to share their erotic escapades in the rec room. And he assumed she was the "unknown clown girl" that broke him out, but nothing could have prepared him to see this. He assumed after releasing the clown from Arkham he'd had no use for her. He assumed that when Dr. Quinzel did not return to work the Joker had simply gotten rid of her. She would probably be better off dead.

"Dr. Who?" asked Joker with fake confusion.

She giggled, "Uh oh, looks like MistahJ needs a memory jogger to," her hand slid to his inner thigh and crotch, she still looked at Jonathan, "It's Harley Quinn now,"

Jonathan grew increasingly uncomfortable. Unable to believe what he was seeing. Dr. Quinzel had respect at Arkham, even he had to admit she was a brilliant psychiatrist. How could she possibly have sank so low? He thought of his similar situation, going from a successful doctor to a criminal. No, he was different. He was still better than this, after all he wasn't the one giving Joker a hand job now.

"Mmmm, not now Harley-girl, Daddy's busy,"

"Aww," Harley pouted, "Maybe later?"

"De-pends on if you're a good girl while I talk to Jonny here," he placed her hand on her own lap.

"I'll be good," she replied with an expression that could only be described as that of an overly excited terrier, begging for a treat.

"So Jonny, I got a brilliant idea the other day," he talked with his hands, "Foor a deeadly laughing gas. See I was thinking it could work kinda like your fear gas. Ya know you spray them in the face only in-stead of gettin' scared they just laugh. Theeen eventually the gas will oh, I don't know dooo something to there insides, so that they'll literally die laughing,"

Harley clapped her hands, "Yaaaay, ya so clever Mistah J," she kissed his scarred cheek.

"I know," he responded, "Aaanywaaay the problem I'm having is hoow does the victim die,"

Jonathan thought for a moment, "Well I suppose the laughter could make it difficult to breathe, but that most likely won't be enough to cause death. Unless the chemicals could hyper stimulate the laughter functions within the victim's brain. That may cause inability to breathe,"

"How soon could ya make that hap-pen?" Joker stroked Harley's head like a dog.

"It's hard to say, I'll need supplies and test subjects," he responded timidly, careful not to invoke anger in his new boss.

Joker nodded, "Talk ta Spades, he'll get whatever you need," he slid a finger into the waistband of Harley's skirt, "Dr. Quinn, I have something you should take a look at,"

Harley giggled, "Do you have an appointment sir?"

"No, but it's an e-mer-gan-cy," he responded with exaggerated concern.

"Oh my," she hopped off his lap and took his hand, "Come with me, my office is this way,"

The couple hurried out of the room.

Jonathan remained sickened and confused as he watched them leave, "Great," he thought, "Not only is he a crazy person but he has an attention span of five minutes,"

He stood for a moment looking around Joker's office, unsure of what to do. Despite what Scarecrow said he had a negative attitude towards the whole situation. He wondered how long he would last here.

Cautiously Jonathan left the room to try and find the others. Though he had absolutely no idea where to look. He walked down the hallway unsure of which room he was supposed to be in. He heard Harley's high pitched giggles on the other side of the door nearest to him. He hurried down the hall.

* * *

Joker slid out of Harley's grasp after rewarding her patience like he said he would. He had never meant such an insatiable girl, though he wasn't about to complain.

He watched her sleep as he got dressed, she softly moaned in her sleep. He guessed he would keep her, she had her perks. For one thing she was hot and always seemed eager to fool around. She was a good ego booster, always so clingy and full of compliments. Besides that she was like a little marionette, she would do what ever he said. She would soon make a good henchgirl. In fact he already had a job for her.

Joker searched through the bags she had brought along with her until found the suitcase containing her clothing. He began pulling garments out of the luggage in search of something a little naughty for their first outing together. She was going to need it where they were going.

While asking around about the where abouts of Joe DiMarco he found out that the man frequented a strip club. The Grin and Bare It. He thought it was kind of a cheesy name but it was the perfect place to make his point to the scum of the Narrows. The club would be packed with mobsters, gang bangers and the general sleazy bottom feeders that lived in the area. All of them crowded around a stage eager to see some naked girls sliding down a pole. Well they'd get to view a bit more of ole' Joey than they would care to see.

Joker rubbed his eyes attempting to wipe away fatigue, though it just smeared black make up off his eyes and onto his fingers. He was beginning to feel exhaustion setting in, he had not slept in a few days. It was so hard to. He was so excited to get a hold of that jackass DiMarco and make an example of him. The Joker was not a force to be reckoned with. You would think the mob boss would have shown a bit more respect. Especially knowing what the clown had done to the last two men in DiMarco's "line of work" that crossed him. Not to mention the havoc he had let loose on Gotham only a short time ago. But people seem to forget things so easily. The memories of such tragedies will always be there, they just begin to fade over time. The magnitude and horror of it disappears and leaves you thinking "that wasn't so bad". Joe needed a fresh reminder is all.

He removed a few things from the bag, included Harley Quinn's jester hat. She'd definentally need that.

"Mistah J," he heard Harley's sleepy voice, "What are ya doin?"

"Oh I was just picking out some clothes for you," he explained, "Ya know why? Because you are gonna go to work with me tomorrow,"

"Really Mistah J! What are we gonna do?"

"Weelll," Joker began as he walked towards Harley, "There's this guy and he doesn't understand my uh, love of chaos. See he wants in control of Gotham for the money and the power that would come with it. He just can't see the beauty in watching it simply burn to the ground, he thinks I'm crazy," he explained as if taking to a child, "Sooo we are gonna show him just how wrong he is,"

"What are we gonna do?" she asked eagerly.

He sat in bed beside Harley and shrugged, "Not sure yet, ya know I'm noot big on plans. And besides it soo much more fun to get your prey at knife point and then surprise yourself and everyone around you with your next move,"

He reached for a knife laying on the night stand. He retracted the small blade and lovingly ran a finger down it's blunt edge.

"Knives are so much better than guns. With a guun it's POW!," he mimicked shooting Harley, "Aaand you're dead. But with a knife, no. No none of that. Ya see a knife is much slower. Deeepending on how you use it very, ver-y slow. And in that slow painful process, people show there uh, true col-ors. They finally open up and become who they real-ly are, by then it's usually to late. Usually. But there's lucky ones," he licked his scars, "Like me, the ones who live to tell. And someday the wound will uh, heal shut. Buut it's never completely gone," he gently ran the tip of the knife over Harley's bare flesh, "It always leaves a scar,"

It wasn't nearly enough pressure to break the skin, but it sent shiver's down her spine still. The thought of the cool, steel blade piercing her flesh made her tremble. She was relived when Joker lifted it off her and placed it back on the nightstand.

"So," he smacked his lips, "We should probably go over your rou-tine,"

* * *

_I had to add Jonny to this, at least for a little while. I love his Jonathan Crane/Scarecroe identity issue, its interesting to write. Besides I loved Cillian Murphy in Batman Begins. He really needed more screen time._

_I see Joker and Harley getting into really kinky roleplay (that is if he's in a good mood) so I had to slip that scene in there. Though I hope it didn't make the relationship seem at all normal. Don't worry Joker fans, he will get more violent._

_And yes I stole the name Grin and Bare It from Joe Bermejo's graphic novel Joker. At least I think that's where I got it from. Auugh I'm to tired to remember. I couldn't think of a strip club name so I stole his, I think._


	7. Welcome to the TiltaWhirl

_I do not own the song Tilt-a-Whirl, Insane Clown Posse and Psychopathic Records does. I just borrowed it._

* * *

It was nearly one in the morning, The Grin and Bare It was packed. Three girls in scandalous costumes danced on stage surrounded by a flashy lights and the loud music. While backstage more prepared for their turn on stage.

Harley locked the dressing room door, "I don't know about this Mistah J," she said as she shoved a chair beneath the knob as well.

"You'll do fine Harl," Joker responded as he duct taped the owner of the dressing room's hands behind her back.

"It's just, well, are ya sure ya want all those other guys... ya know, lookin' at me?"

He stretched out another piece of the silver tape, "It's nooo big de-al," he placed the tape over the stripper's cotton candy pink mouth, he looked over his shoulder towards Harley, "Get ready, you're on soon,"

She nodded and went overto the mirror across the room to do her Harley Quinn makeup. She applied the clown make up quickly and evenly. Since she had begun wearing it almost everyday she'd gotten good at putting it on. She had already dressed except for her pair of platform Mary-Janes, theywere a little bit difficult to walk in. She had specifically bought a red pair and a black pair so she could where one of each. She slid the red one on first. Harley looked at Mr. J. She felt a somewhat disappointed he wasn't more possessive with her. Since he sending her to strip in front of a group of strange men and he didn't even care. It didn't seem to matter that in a moment the entire strip club would see what she intended for Mr. J alone. It hurt her somewhat.

"Are ya mad at me now?" she asked quietly.

"Why woould I be maad?" he said slightly frustrated.

She avoided his eyes, "Cause I don't wanna do this,"

He sighed "Look Harl, I'd go out there and strip out of a uh, kinky little costume myself but I think the guys in the audience would be ver-y disappointed," he turned her face to look at him, "And no, I'm not maaad. Because I know you are going to do this, no matter how much you bitch and whine you'll do as I say," he squeezed her cheeks, "And you're gonna be spunky and sexy and veeery convincing. Do you know why Har-ley Quinn?"

"Why Mistah J?"

"Because I want Di-Marco dead tonight and if he's nooot," Joker pulled a knife out of his trench coat, "I'm gonna have alot of left over aggression," he jerked Harley's face closer to his and held the knife between them, "Do you understand me, honey?" he asked quietly.

Her bottom lip trembled in fear of the steel blade before her, "I understand Mistah J, I won't let ya down,"

"Good," he growled, roughly letting go of her.

Mr. J sat down on a chair beside his captive and tucked his knife back into his pocket. He glanced over to the bleach blond sitting in the corner, her hands, feet and mouth duct taped together.

"I guess I'm being rude," he licked his lips, "I'm Joker this is Harley," he said to the stripper shaking in the corner, "Don't be scared. We're not gonna hurtchya, Harley here is just takin' your spot in the uh, show,"

He probed the inside of his cheek with his tongue. It caused the outside of the scar to look even more distorted. Glancing around the dressing room he noticed everything was pink and seemed to have a sparkling sheen. Pink stickers spelled out Sugar on the door.

"Is that your name, Sugar?" he pointed towards the door.

Sugar nodded, unable to verbally respond.

Harley glared at Sugar. She wondered why Mr. J was suddenly paying so much attention to that whore. Why didn't he just kill her? She began adjusting her hair to make it fit beneath her jester hat.

"You're veery pretty," she heard Joker say to the stripper.

She cast another dirty look her way that distinctively said "I wanna claw your eyes out".

Joker smiled seeing he was getting a rise out of Harley, "So you're the jealous type," he thought to himself.

"And you must be a good dancer since they save you for last," he wrapped one of the girl's white-blond curls around his finger, "Maybe if I let you live I could get a uh, pri-vate show," he watched Harley for her reaction.

She still stared in the mirror pretending to be busy getting ready. He could still tell he had her rattled and he liked that.

"Hmm? Shake your head up and down for yesss and side to side for noo," he explained.

Harley took her eyes off of the mirror. If looks could kill Sugar would have been defiantly dead now.

Joker removed his hand from her hair and ran his fingertips down her jawline.

Harley Quinn was about to go from anger to rage and make that little bitch pay, but then she noticed something. Sugar desperately tried to pull away from his touch. She whimpered from behind the duct tape in complete fear.

"That tramp is afraid of my angel," Harley thought, "How could she feel that way about my precious baby,"

Suddenly there was a quick knock at the door.

"Ah, that's your cue Har-ley Quinn," Joker announced.

* * *

Meanwhile men gathered around the stage for the final show.

"And now boys," a voice boomed, "It's time for you to show some love for-" Sugar's introduction cut off as well as the pink and purple lights.

Darkness swallowed the entire building for a few moments. The audience murmured to each other as well as a few drunken shouts.

A strange sound floated into the room amidst the darkness as well as a voice.

_"Welcome to the Tilt-a-Whirl," it said._

_"All you mutha fuckas are gonna die  
Everybody! You're dying everyday, constantly  
I'll kill myself right mutha fuckin now  
And still won't die (try em)  
Wicked clowns never (never) die, whut?!"_

The lights burst on revealing a clown girl wrapped around the stripper pole in the middle of the stage.

_Oh my goody look a chicken  
Keep your money here's a ticket__  
Hold up keep your kids out here  
They too young to play in there  
Step right up now strap 'em in  
Lock it tight under his chin  
Clamp his arms up to his side  
It's gonna be a helly ride_

Harley slid around the pole, grinding to the beat.

_Now if you misplace an item  
Psychopathic straight up find 'em  
If you lose your nugget yo  
Hatchet ain't responsible  
Look and wonder if you will  
Cuz we about to rip and kill  
Think about your every sin  
As our tilt-a-whirly spins_

She noticed Joe across the room. She had to get his attention. She undid her belt and pulled it seductively from her mini skirt, keeping eye contact with the mob boss.

_They... all... die... die..._

_(Die)_

_They... all... die... die..._

_(Die_)

_Looky look a fancy fuck  
With his wallet up his butt__  
Give the wealthy what they want  
Fuck the line put him up front  
Welcome to our spectacle  
Carny rides eccentrical  
Hope you like it even though  
Hafta mingle with the po  
Here you go sir have a seat  
You've got to take this ride, it's neat  
Tell ya now the ride is fast  
Might want me to hold your cash  
We gonna spin until your soul __Leaves your body dead and cold  
Tilt-a-whirly sprayin' blood  
All over the neighborhood_

DiMarco noticed the clown girl, curious as to who this new dancer was he pushed his way through the crowd to the stage.

_They... all... die... die..._

_(Die)_

She began pulling her tight pleather skirt off rotating her hips in circles as she did. This left nothing on her lower half but tights, a thong and a gun strapped to her thigh.

_They... all... die... die..._

_(Die)_

_Get up on it get up on it get up on it, get on  
Get up on it get up on it get up on it, free  
Get up on it get up on it get up on it, get on  
Get up on it get up on it get up on it, ride  
Get up on it get up on it get up on it, get on  
Get up on it get up on it get up on it, *squeak*  
Get up on it get up on it get up on it, ride_

Now Harley undid her small button down vest, DiMarco watched approvingly. He now stood directly in front of the stage, right where she needed him. The other men in the crowd cheered at the sight of her black push-up bra. She returned to the pole.

_Welcome buddy, what you did  
Like to punch up on your kids  
Scoot all them dead bodies down  
We can go another round  
Excuse us while we clean up here  
Pile them up on over there  
Strap'em up then start the show  
This time speed it up some mo  
Tell me any last requests  
Before your guts rip out your chest  
Fuck all that don't give'em nothin'  
Slap his ass and press the button  
Fair enough now another down  
Carnival don't fuck around  
Fire up the tilt-a-whirl  
And we'll see you all in hell_

At that she dropped to her knees and quickly ripped of her bra, the audience went wild but she simply focused on Joe. Mr. J was going to be so proud. She slowly crawled towards their victim.

_They... all... die... die..._

_(Die)_

_They... all... die... die..._

_(Die)_

She came within inches of DiMarco and on the final "die" she pulled the gun off of her leg and shot toward his face. A flag with the word BANG! scrawled broadly across it burst out.

_Yo, the dark carnival will never die._

She beckoned mob boss closer to her with her index finger. She nodded toward the curtain behind the stage with a naughty smile.

_I mean that's all we do is think about dyin'.  
We wish we die, we hope we die._

Harley tugged his tie seductively.

_The only problem is,  
We ain't never ever ever gonna die motherfucker!_

He took the bait and slowly followed her onto the stage and then behind the curtain. A cocky smile on his face.

_They... all... die... die..._

_(Die)_

They... all... die... die...

(Die)

The song's chorus began to fade after some time. The glittery curtain shifted slightly and crowd stayed pressed tightly to the stage hoping the clown stripper would return. Instead a body was tossed out on stage, it toward the edge just missing the crowd and leaving a bloody trail behind it. They stood motionless and confused staring at the blood drenched corpse which lay face down before them.

"And now for our next act..." Joker announced.

He pulled back the curtains and practically skipped towards the body.

"Joey DiiiMarcooo," he got on his knees before jerking Joey's head upwards revealing not only Joker's trademark "permanent smile" but a completely gutted torso.

The building was filled with gasps and retching at the sight of the man's opened body cavity. Joker just giggled sadistically.

"Tell em watchyadid to deserve this Jo-ey," he said to the dead body, he paused, "Hm, must havestage fright," he shrugged and shoved the corpse off stage, "I think everyone heere knooows who I am, right? Well, Joey here obviously didn't. See Joey couldn't un-der-stand that Goth-am, Gotham is my city now. I thooought I had made that clear months a-go, obviously not," he clicked his tongue, "Buuut I am now, cross me and ya end up like my good friend Joey,"

All eyes watched, unsure of what to do everyone remained still letting Joker speak as if it was some kind of demented school assembly.

"I suu-poose that's all, thanks you've been a won-der-ful audience," he gave a short bow and slipped backstage.

* * *

_I really seemed to struggle with this chapter so I'm sorry if it's not my best._

_I wanted to explain the dressing room scene a bit: so Joker's totally hitting on the stripper. I wanted to make sure ya know that doesn't change the Joker/Harley of this fic. In this scene Joker was just showing Harley how replaceable she is. Because as you see alot here Joker likes to give visualexamples for everything. It also is a good glimpse at Harley's mental state. First she hurt, feeling like Mr. J doesn't care, than she's even more hurt as well as mad when he flirts with the stripper. And lastly she feels hurt for him that Sugar is scared of him. A little anger in there as well I guess._

_I hope no one minded the ICP in there, I needed a song for Harley to strip to and I thought Insane Clown Posse would be brilliant. They have a bizarre way of making there music violent and angry yet somehow fun and provocativeve. Which is basically a good way to describe the Joker. Anyway Tilt-a-Whirl was especially dancey as well as gory, I couldn't get over how perfect it was for that scene. Another extra about the stripping scene; I had the Joker say, "I'd do it but... ect. because yeah, I almost had him do the stripping. Mostly cause I love cross-dressing Joker. And I know I'm not alone on that one. But then I thought the crowd would very quickly realize he was a man and the whole killing of the mob boss with the sucky-assed name wouldn't happen._

_So yeah, thanks for reading I really appreciate all the reviews. You people are absolutely amazing._


	8. Stitches

Joker tossed his purple trench coat on the floor and flopped down in bed.

"So what did ya do to um, what's his face?" Harley asked closing the bedroom door behind her.

"What waaas his face, past tense cause he's very dead," Joker corrected, "And ya know when the song says uh, before your guts rip out your chest," he emphasized the "t", "Let's just say I was uh, in-spir-ed by that lyric,"

She laughed and sat in bed beside him, "So how'd I do tonight Mistah J?" she asked while stroking his greasy curls.

"You were a faantastic stripper Harl, missed your calling I'd say," he responded, "I told ya you could do it,"

She giggled, excited that he approved of her performance, "Ya so silly,"

"Yeah," he chucked staring at the ceiling.

"But ya know what?" she said tracing the hexagon pattern on his shirt with her finger, "You had ta stay backstage sooo ya didn't completely see the show, right?"

He nodded.

"So I was thinkin' maybe I'll do it again, ya know, just for you,"

"Sure," he shrugged sleepily.

"Kay, I'll be right back," she dashed off excitedly to change.

After fixing her hair and make up as well as changing into another costume she returned from the bathroom to find Mr. J asleep. She sighed with some disappointment, but it was understandable. It was late. Harley walked to his side and carefully loosened his tie. She unbuttoned his green vest and unhooked his suspenders. She smiled, she had never seen him like this. Only once in Arkham had she seen him sleep but that wasn't the same. That was a drug induced sleep. She still cringed to think about that day, she felt the fear creeping in her heart that she had felt while she stared hopelessly into his cell. That fear that he would sleep forever, it still chilled her. She gently stroked the chartreuse strands of hair of his forehead. But that was all over now and they were finally together.

He looked so harmless and innocent asleep before her. Or at least as harmless and innocent a man can look while covered in make up and blood. She noticed flecks of blood mingling with his white face paint. It must have been DiMarco's blood, it covered his hands and up his arms ending just under his rolled up sleeves. She decided she should wipe it off.

Harley made her way back to the bathroom, which was small and dirty. She wondered if the previous owner's even had any wash clothes. But after searching for a few moments she found some ratty, stained clothes piled in a drawer beneath the sink. She dampened and couple of them and returned to Mr. J. who was still asleep.

She gently wiped DiMarco's blood of off Joker's forearms. Thankfully it was not completely dried and came off fairly easy, leaving slight stains here and there. The she began to wipe his face with the second wash cloth. She hoped Mr. J wouldn't mind that she was removing his make up along with the blood splatters.

Seeing his pale flesh beneath the heavy clown make up reminded her of Arkham. They hadn't let him wear make up there, not until she bought some for him. Harley carefully removed his lipstick which was smeared chaotically across his scars. Her fingers lingered across the scar tissue for a moment, she loved the way it felt. The sensation reminded her of the first day she had felt them beneath her finger tips. That day changed everything, she knew she would never be the same. She was in love. Slowly, she wiped the face paint of his eyes and forehead, all done.

She sat the now bloody, make up covered wash cloths on the nightstand beside her. Then crawled in bed beside him. She snuggled up against him, wrapping her arms around his. Harley slowly fell asleep.

* * *

_Rain pounded hard against the windows. It was so loud, why was it so loud? He couldn't stand the sound but he couldn't make it stop. Lightning flashed outside, it lit up the entire room with a quick white flash before it was gone. Gone, in a matter of moments leaving eerie shadows through out the room. He wanted the light to come back so badly. But in his heart he knew it wouldn't, things would never be okay. Thunder boomed making him jump slightly. He waited for the lightning to soundlessly relieve him for a brief moment. It did but retreated once again, he was terrified without it. But the darkness was a blessing and a curse. It was frightening but it hid the face before him._

_He tried to recall his surroundings but could barley remember where he was. All he knew was he was in a small room. And inside the room nothing hung on the dirty walls but a mirror. A large oval shaped mirror. He stared into it unable to see what reflected in it due to the darkness. His dark siloette stared back at him only to be reveiled in color with a brilliant flash of lightning. And when the bolts of white light split the sky, casting light into the room he saw them. The stitches. Angry, black wires weaving in and out of his cheeks. He hated them._

_Another flash of light. He quickly closed his eyes to avoid the sight of them but it didn't matter. He saw them anyway. It now seemed impossible to close his eyes. He tried to turn away from the reflection but he couldn't move. His legs grew numb. This was who he was now. He gazed at the now darkened reflection. He could never escape this. _

_He felt along the insides of his wounds. The stitches pricked the tip of his tongue. He touched them from the outside, stiff, swollen and lined with course stitches. He hated them so much. He gritted his teeth forgetting his previous feelings of confusion and fear. Anger took over as he felt the sides of his once whole face. He gripped the stitch closest to the corner of his mouth and swiftly pulled it. Blood spurt out and splattered the mirror. He felt the other corner of his mouth for another lose stitch. After finding it he jerked it out like the other one. He pulled a small pocket knife out of his back pants pocket. Slowly he worked each stitch loose with the knife before harshly pulling them out leaving behind nothing but tiny holes and blood._

_The lightning once again lit up his small room. His reflection was much different now, blood dripped steadily down his chin. He glared at the man in the mirror. He breathed heavily, his mouth racked with pain. _

_Then he noticed something behind his reflection, he couldn't quite make out what it was. The shape grew behind him. A dark looming figure, it seemed both familiar and horrific. He wanted to run, something about the figure did not seem right. His legs still felt as though they were sleeping though, he could not move..._

* * *

Harley woke abruptly after feeling Mr J shift in bed. She rubbed her eyes, he must have been waking up. Joker was still asleep however. He twitched, clenching and unclenching his fists. Harley sat up.

"Mistah J, you alright?" she asked.

Being asleep, he didn't respond. He only continued to twitch and shake. His expression, fearful and in pain.

"Mistah J, Joker?" she shook his shoulder slightly attempting to wake him.

"No, no, no," he whimpered gripping the sheets in his fist.

He was having a nightmare, Harley had never imagined this. She just assumed someone like him was above such fears. But her heart went out to him in his vulnerable state. She stroked his face.

"Shhh, it's okay. You're dreamin' Mistah J. Just wake up," she cooed, "It's okay, it's okay,"

Her comforting did not seem to affect him. He seemed to get worse as the moments passed. Harley could only imagine what was happening in his subconscious to cause this. She took his hand, feeling afraid for him.

"It's okay puddin'," she continued for the tenth time despite the fact it was getting them no where, "Do ya remembah when we first met?" she began to simply talk him through his nightmare, "I do, it was the best day of my life. I realize that now, at first I was scared. Of course I wasn't gonna show you that, no. But ya not so scary are ya puddin'. In fact I think ya pretty scared yourself," she took his hand, "Remembah the first time I kissed ya. I nevah kissed anyone before you Mistah J, not like that. And it was like nothing I eva felt before in my whole life. Ya so special. I don't know how I lived without ya. I guess I wasn't really livin' huh? Ya know the things ya say about people becoming who they really are? Well, I see now that's true. I've nevah felt as good as I do right now. Not pleasing anybody, just bein' Harley. It's great and I have you to thank Mistah J. If only more people would listen to ya. I wish they weren't so scared,"

He was squeezing her hand so tightly now she worried he might accidentally break something. But soon relaxed, breathing heavily he slowly let go of her sore hand. She sighed with relief the the ordeal was over. She pushed away his hair which clung to the cold sweat on his forehead. The she layed back down, even closer to him the time.

"That's it puddin'," she whispered, "Everything's okay. Some day you're gonna get bettah and we're gonna leave Gotham. We're gonna go some place where no one will hurt ya. We'll be so happy together Mistah J,"

In Harley's mind the Joker was not as bad as he seemed. But not many people viewed him the way she did. Probably because they never say moments like this. And not just the moments when he appeared more human, the moments when he was vulnerable. When he was scared or rather terrified. At that moment Harley knew she was doing the right thing. No matter what society said, she had to stay by him. He needed her.

"I'm here, don't be afraid. You're not alone, not anymore," she rubbed his chest.

He needed someone to love him, to care for him. Harley decided she'd do just that.

* * *

_Another Joker nightmare, I like writing those. Obviously it's another flashback but this one has more of a weird nightmareish twist to it. It's actually based on some things that happen to me in nightmares. I don't wanna over explain things but I was so pleased with this dream because it's not just a scar nightmare, it has so much deeper meaning. It's about becoming the Joker. In the nightmare he's forced to look in the mirror, at his stitches. He can't move away or close his eyes, he has to face the reality of his situation. I had him rip the stitches out because one: I think that character would do something like that, two: it would make the scars worse therefore accepting his new deformity. As for the figure in the background, that was the Joker... I could explain more but I'll let you think about what happens next and why he was freaking out. Things tend to be scarier when it's left up to the reader's imagination._

_Harley comforting Joker: yeah it's kinda fluffy, but I really wanted to show Harley's unconditional love for Joker. As well as how she views him. Not as a murdering, insane clown but as a frightened little boy. She thinks he's that simple and she thinks she can change him. I think that's an important element in the Joker Harley relationship._


	9. Mornin' Puddin'

Joker woke up feeling even more groggy then he did before sleeping. He didn't even remember falling asleep. Harley sat at the edge of the bed smiling at him.

"Mornin' puddin'," she greeted, "But I guess it ain't really mornin' cause it's three o'clock, huh Mistah J,"

He cringed and wondered why becoming Harley Quinn had made her voice so annoying.

"Yeah," he grumbled.

"I've been watchin' ya sleep for like three hours. Ya so sweet, like an angel," she sighed, "Well sorta, not really,"

He ignored her and got out of bed.

"Stay in bed honey, I can make breakfast. Do ya like pancakes, I can make pancakes. Or waffles. Wait no, ya need a waffle iron. Unless ya have one but really I guess waffles and pancakes are the same thing. Kinda, I dunno. Which do ya like more? Cause I can make either, do ya want me to, I will," she said energetically with out taking a break to breathe.

"I don't want anything," he responded.

"Really? What about oatmeal? I can make hot chocolate too. Well, anyone can do that I guess," she giggled, "Ya just poor it in. But I'll get ya some if ya want it,"

"No Harley," he groaned, "I don't think I even have hot chocolate mix,"

"C'mon Mistah J lemme take care of you. I can make breakfast and then we can come back here and I can take really good care of you," Harley Quinn said suggestively draping her arms around his neck.

He shoved her arms off him.

"Are ya feelin' okay Mistah J," she attempted to feel his forehead which caused him to nearly push her off the bed.

"I'm fine Harley,"

"Okay but I still think you should eat somethin," she followed him out of the bedroom, "I noticed ya have these really bad dark circles and that may be from not, ya know, eating or sleeping,"

"Dark circles, how did you notice I had dark circles?" he asked angrily.

"Well, I uh I took off your make up while you were asleep," she said shyly looking at the floor.

He grabbed her hair and forced her to look at him, "Why?" he growled.

"Cause ya had Joey's blood all over ya and that's just icky," Harley whined, "Can ya let go Mistah J, this hurts,"

Joker shoved her aside, "Don't ever do that again,"

He stormed back into his bedroom do redo his make up. Harley followed him like a puppy.

"Why puddin'? If it's about the scars ya don't have ta be embarrassed. Ya don't have to wear make up around me I don't mind them at all. I think ya handsome Mistah J,"

"Mistah J, Mistah J, Mistah J," he mocked in a whiny voice as he smeared paint across his face.

"I guess ya not a morning person huh Mistah J," Harley giggled.

"Damn it Harley, do you ev-er shut up," he said exasperated.

"Sorry, it's not even morning," she answered sadly.

"I'm gonna be in my office, don't bother me," he finished his make up and pushed past Harley.

"Whatevah ya say Mistah J," she followed him, "But what should I do while ya workin'?"

"I don't care," he stormed into the room slamming the door behind him.

"Okay puddin," Harley sighed, "What should I do taday?" she asked herself.

She decided it might be fun to explore the apartment building a little more closely. That would keep her occupied until Mr. J was in a better mood.

She skipped down the hall and looked around. She looked towards a flight of stairs and decided she would start exploring there. After climbing the stairs she came to another short hallway lined with doors.

"Hmmm," she looked thoughtfully at the lines of doors, "Eenie meanie miney mo," she began pointing to each door, "Catcha tiger by the toe, if he hollas let em go, eenie meanie miney mo," she chose which apartment to go into, "Hello," she called as she walked in the door.

Joker had said no one but he and his men lived in the apartment building, the upstairs was completely empty.

"Anybody home?" she called as a precaution, "Guess not," she said to herself as she examined the room.

The small apartment was like most in the Narrows. Dirty and dingy with peeling wallpaper and stained carpets. It was a mess with most of the previous owner's possessions still lying around. They must have been in a hurry to leave when the Joker arrived in their building. That or they just never made it out.

Harley looked around the room for anything interesting, there wasn't much to look at though. She went down a narrow hallway which led to two bedrooms and a bathroom. The bathroom looked horribly filthy so she decided to look around one of the bedrooms. She stepped into the room nearest to her. Though it was shades of dull gray and brown, Harley could tell it had been a little girl's room by the messy stuffed animals piled on the bed. She approached the bed and picked up a ratty teddy bear with a missing eye. Then she noticed a doll amidst the plush animals. She took the doll replacing it with the bear.

It was dirty like the other toys. Her blond hair was matted and falling out in some places. She loved dolls when she was a little girl. She could entertain herself for hours pretending to be a mother. It made her wonder what became of this little doll's "mother". She felt a little sad looking into the doll's plastic, blue eyes. So she decided to take it with her. The rest of the bedroom contained normal little girl things. Though most of the toys and clothes were dirty and torn due to the poverty in the Narrows.

Harley went back into the living room to search some more. She noticed a shelf with with several DVD cases piled on it.

"Cinderella," she gasped picking up the case, "I loved this when I was little," she said to the doll.

She grabbed a few more Disney princess movies and the Wizard of Oz.

"That reminds me," she stated upon finding the movie, "We should go see Jonathan,"

* * *

Jonathan Crane sat in his own apartment with in the Joker's building. He hated it there. It was absolutely disgusting. He had no idea who lived in the apartment before him but they had to be the world's worst house keepers. Every inch of the apartment was covered in filth. He had attempted to clean it up but failed to since the apartment contained a very limited selection of cleaning supplies. He made a note to have Spades get some when he bought him laughing gas ingredients. That is if he didn't die in this hell hole first. Between the unhygienic apartment building and the fact that his boss was Gotham's most wanted criminal, he assumed his chances of survival were slim.

He pondered whether he would prefer mold spores in his lungs or being chopped in to little pieces as he jotted down some ideas for the Joker's laughing gas. Though he had no idea where to begin with the chemical. Crane actually hated the idea. He gassed people in the name of science, not for fun. Scarecrow did that. But even Scarecrow hadn't killed anyone, not directly. He let his victims destroy themselves. It was really more interesting that way. He loved to see the mind's power over the body, it was fascinating. The Joker would never appreciate that. All that madman wanted was blood and guts swiftly followed by something that went BOOM! But Jonathan was not about to tell him no, sure he had some mental health issues but he wasn't suicidal.

Just then he heard a knock at the door. He groaned and stood to answer it. As if it wasn't bad enough he was forced to waste his time on a deadly laughing gas, he had to deal with visitors to. He opened the door.

"Hiya Jonny!" Harley exclaimed bouncing in the doorway.

"Hello Dr. Quinzel," sighed Jonathan.

"Call me Harley," she corrected, "Can I come in,"

He looked at the baby doll and DVDs in her arms, "Why?"

"Ta visit," she walked into his apartment and dropped her things on a near by coffee table, "Look," she said excitedly holding up the Wizard of Oz.

"The Wizard of Oz," he said flatly.

"Well yeah, Inspector Obvious," she laughed, "I thought you'd like it, ya know with the Scarecrow and all," she flopped down on the couch, "Sooo what's Jonny up to taday?"

"Well I was working on the Joker's fear gas,"

"Yay," she squealed, "That's a pretty neat idea huh, ain't Mistah J the greatest?"

"Yeah he's pretty great," mumbled Jonathan.

"I know," Harley agreed obviously she hadn't detected Jonathan's sarcasm, "I dunno how he does it, how he comes up with these great ideas. He's so smart,"

Crane watched as Harley chipped nail polish off her nails, he was still confused by her new found identity. It disturbed him, yet intrigued him at the same time. What would cause a normal, successful women to become a homicidal clown girl?

"Can I ask you something Dr. Qui- I mean Harley?" he sat down beside her.

"Sure,"

"Why the Joker? You are attractive, intelligent, you were a very successful psychiatrist. Honestly you could have any man you wanted, why would you do this?" he asked the psychiatrist in himself becoming interested in Harley's psychosis.

"Are ya sayin' he's not good enough for me?" she said with a hint of anger.

"I'm not saying that, it's just that... well you know his mental state better than I do. I mean he is a sociopath," Jonathan explained.

"He isn't crazy Jonathan," she snapped, "Sorry Jonny," she apologized for getting mad, "I should be more understanding, I can;t expect ya to understand him like I do. Ya see, Mistah J is just well different. Sure he's got some issues but he's not crazy,"

"Do you honestly believe that?" he asked.

Harley nodded, "He just does things differently from everyone else. It's society that makes him out to be a bad guy,"

"Harley, he kills people," Jonathan reminded her.

"Nobody's perfect," she shrugged, "Besides I think that's a kind of a phase, he'll get bored of it soon,"

Jonathan couldn't believe what he was hearing. It would have been a bizarre statement coming from anyone especially a former psychiatrist and Arkham Asylum. She of all people should know murder isn't like that. That you can't "grow out" of insanity.

"So it does not bother you at all?" he asked, "You do not mind that he has taken hundreds of innocent lives and will most definitely continue murdering and causing chaos,"

"Jonny, nobody's completely innocent,"

"What has he done to you?" he shook his head, "I mean, what if he decides to kill you?"

Harley gasped, "He would nevah do that to me. How could ya say that? Mistah J loves me!"

"How can you be so sure he won't turn on you. You know as well as I the symptoms of an antisocial personality disorder," he responded flatly, "And let's be honest here, he doesn't have the capability to love,"

"You're one to talk Mr. D I D, Dissociative Identity Disorder. You dress up like a freakin' scarecrow, isn't that a little unconventional? Don't get all pretentious with me Dr. Crane," she said with air quotes, "I'm gettin' outa here," Harley gathered up her things and stormed out of Crane's apartment.

He didn't feel sorry for her, after all he tried to warn her. Tried to tell her from one mentally insane psychiatrist to another but she refused to listen. He sat back down and began taking notes for the Joker's laughing gas.

* * *

_I am so excited Heath Ledger was nominated for an Oscar yesterday, a year after his death. I know he'll get it. He played the best Joker ever, I can never look at that character the same way again. Great job Heath._

_So there's some Harley and Jonathan interaction. I loved writing them because they're kinda similar, both being Arkham Asylum doctors that completely lost it. I wasn't sure what to diagnose Jonathan/Scarecrow with, Dissociative Identity Disorder seemed pretty close. Basically it's split personality disorder. He is Jonathan Crane who acts and feels one way and the Scarecrow who has a completely different personality and way of thinking. So there's my diagnoses though I have never been to medical school._


	10. Lyle is a Girl's Name

"Who does he think he is?" rambled Harley as she brushed out the doll's hair, "Jonny doesn't know Mistah J, not at all,"

A large strand of the doll's hair ripped out and stuck in the hair brush.

"Oh my," Harley cringed holding up the plastic hair, "Sorry," she whispered brushing a little more gently, "I outa think of a name for you," she said to the toy, "I'm not very creative though. Not when it comes ta naming things. When I was a little girl all my toys were named obvious things. Ya know like I'd name a teddy bear Bear or a stuffed cat Cat. What a lack of imagination huh? I blame my folks. I'll ask Mistah J, he's so smart he'll think of somethin'. We'll hafta wait though cause he's workin' and I ain't allowed to bothah him,"

She finished with the doll's hair and held her up. The ugly little toy was missing more hair then when she had started brushing it.

She sighed, "I don't know why I'm talkin' ta you. Ya can't even talk back or hear me for that matter. I guess I'm just bored,"

Harley held the doll close and stroked it's hair. She recalled when she was a child. Her over-protective mother and father didn't want her to associate with the other children her age. They said she needed to concentrate on more important things like school and gymnastics. Though she hated how they pushed her and controlled her she would never tell them that. Instead she spent her time alone. She would pace around her bedroom expressing her frustration to a neat pile of plush toys and dolls. It always made her feel better afterwords. That is until her parents decided she was becoming to old for such childish things and took them away.

"I hope Mistah J doesn't do this everyday, I wanna spend time with him. No offense but an actual human to talk to would be nice," she told the doll. "Someday though, Mistah J and I are gonna have real babies. That will be nice, I want a little girl first. And we can bake cookies and play dress up. I can brush her hair and hopefully it won't fall out," she looked at the toy's balding scalp, "And Mistah J will be sucha good Daddy, well he has some aggression problems... but when he gets ovah that he'll be wonderful with our kids," Harley sighed dreamily, "I hope they have his eyes,"

"What about my smiiile," Joker stood in the doorway.

"Hey Mistah J," she bounce up to give him a kiss, "Ya done workin'?"

"Yeah," he looked at the doll, "Why are you uh talking to a doll?"

"I was lonely puddin'," she wrapped her arms around him, "By the way, she needs a name. What should we call her?"

"Definitely Lyle," Mr. J responded

"Why Lyle?"

"I dunno," he shrugged, "Just came to me,"

"Ain't that a boy's name puddin'?" asked Harley.

"No, Lyle's a girl's name,"

* * *

After naming Harley's doll Lyle she convinced Mr. J to eat, Harley made him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It had been hard to find anything still edible in the apartment. Most of the food left by the previous tenants was expired.

"Can I ask ya somethin' Mistah J?" questioned Harley while making her own sandwich.

"Ya just did puddin'," he pointed out as he ripped his sandwich into bite sized pieces.

She giggled, "Sorry, can I ask you a couple questions?"

"Sure,"

"Do ya have alotta nightmares?" she handed him a napkin.

He shrugged, "Why?"

"Last night ya were freakin' out in ya sleep. Ya had me so worried. I just wondahed what that was all about,"

"Welll, it makes sense I'd have nightmares, I mean my subconcious is bad enough while I'm a-wake," Joker responded.

"Do ya remember what ya were dreamin' about Mistah J?" Harley asked.

He looked sideways at her, "You aren't goin' all Doctor Quinn Medicine Women on me again are ya Harl, be-cause yooou were the one talking to an inanimate object a minute ago,"

"Oh I'm not Mistah J," she shook her head vigorously, "Harley Quinn is way more fun than that boring ole' shrink. I was just wonderin' is all,"

"Oh," he responded eating a piece of sandwich, "I dunno what I was dreamin' about, be-sides I don't wanna talk about. Dreams don't rea-lly mean anything,"

"Okay," she wondered if he was telling the truth but she did not want to question him.

Harley attempted to make casual conversation about things couples usually talked about, "So how was work?"

"Good," he said pushing is pieces of peanut butter and jelly around his plate.

"Are ya gonna ask me how my day was puddin'?" Harley questioned.

"Okay, how was your day darling?"

"Great," she responded enthusiastically, "I looked through some of the apartments and visited Jonny,"

"Did he say anything about my uh, laughing gas?" Joker asked.

"Yep he's working on it. Soo did you come up with any plans today?"

"No, no, I don't make plans," he air quoted plans, "I get ideas and just sorta build on them," he cocked his head to the side explaining, "There's a difference,"

"I see, sorry puddin', did you come up with any ideas?" Harley apologized.

"A few," he shrugged, "See the problem is they're not as much fun if the Bat won't come out and plaa-ay," he pushed his plate aside and leaned forward, "The police have this cr-aaazy idea that Batman killed like five people. But he didn't,"

Harley had never paid much attention to the news or the Batman. She knew he was wanted by the Gotham Police Department but she assumed it was because he was a vigilante.

She leaned forward as well, "Then who did puddin',"

"Haarvey Dent. Or better known as Two-Face,"

"Whadya mean Two-Face?"

"Ya don't watch a whole lotta news do ya babe? Half his face got blown off," he pointed to his own face, "This side. BOOM! Almost completely gone, what was left just looked all crispy and meaty... like bacon," he made a face, "I never told you about him?"

Harley shook her head no.

"Huh, well he was only about the best example of my little uh, theory. Where do I begin," he started, "Harvey Harvey Harvey Dent, he seeeemed so perfect. Ya know, nice guy, important job, good looking. Of course he did have a bit of an ass chin whiiiich always bothered me... aaanyway. Sounds like he had it all together right? WRONG! See I added a lit-tle uh, anarchy into his meaningless life, like myself Harv had to experience some tragedy. Something that would uh, scar him for life," he began to giggle, "Now keep in mind I didn't plan anything, things just sorta played out and in the end my good buddy Harvey had half a face and several pieces of girlfriend," he giggled excitedly.

"What did ya do?"

"That's not important Harley Quinn, the point of the story is any-bod-y can break. Even some one as noble and great as Gotham's White Knight," he explained, "And so after Harvey Dent gave in and became who he truly was all along, he killed a few people," Joker shrugged.

"But how did he die?" Harley questioned.

"Dunno. All I know is he killed over and Batsy took the blame for his murders. Aaand so that's why I'm in this po-sit-ion, Batman can't come get me when the cops are after him. And me minus Batman equals not much fun," he slumped in his chair.

"Aw don't feel bad Mistah J," Harley went to his side and played with his hair, "He'll come,"

Secretly Harley hoped he wouldn't. She didn't want to see Mr. J hurt.

"Yeah, you're right. I just need to do something big, something he can't ignore," he bit his lip in thought, "I think I have an idea,"

* * *

_According to the Joker Lyle is a girl's name. That whole conversation came from the wonderful Joker Blogs on Youtube. If you've never watched them you should, like right now- no finish my author's note then go look up Joker Blogs, I'd provide a link but I don't feel like it. Besides I don't think they show up correctly on fanfictions. ANYWAY. The guy who plays the Joker does one of the best Dark Knight Joker impressions I've ever seen, besides that whoever writes these things is apparently a genius. So watch em' they are AMAZING! And really a kick ass source of inspiration if you write or draw Harley/Joker stuff._

_Doctor Quinn Medicine Women was a show in like the 90's, it took place in the late 1800's and was about a female doctor (hence Dr. Quinn Medicine Women)_

_I could not for the life of me remember if I brought Harvey Dent up in this or All My Balloons, and since I really didn't feel like reading my fics over again I just went for it. Sorry if I already mentioned him, if I did lemme know so I can rewrite that scene. But I don't think I did._

_Sorry if the ass chin offended Eckhart fans. He's still cool ass chin or not, it's just something my sis (im-batman) and I obsess over because we're dorks._

_Alright now go watch the Joker Blogs. DO IT! _


	11. Scars

"What's your idea Mistah J," Harley followed Joker into the bedroom.

He quickly turned on the news.

"They reported on it earlier," he thought out loud.

"On what Mistah J?"

"That Wayne guy, uh, Bruce Wayne. He's doing some kinda fundraiser, so he's throwing a party, of course," he said.

"Kay, I don't understand," Harley looked confused.

"I'm get-ting to that, dearest. See, we are gonna crash it," explained Mr. J, "Last time I made an appearance at Wayne's the Batman showed right away,"

She nodded, "I see Mistah J, and if we wreck the party there won't be any money raised ta better Gotham," she air quoted.

"Now you're gettin' it Har-ley Quinn, two birds, one stone,"

"So when's the party Mistah J?" she questioned.

"I don't know. But if we watch the news long enough I'm sure will find out," he nodded, "There's war and suffering all over the world but they'll re-port on Bruce Wayne's party aaall day,"

The commercial break ended and returned to Gotham City News, "Doctor Harleen Quinzel was reported missing today by a neighbor,"

Harley gasped, "Turn up the TV Mistah J," she leaned forward listening to the broadcast.

"Her neighbor contacted the Gotham Police Department saying she had not seen Quinzel for about three days. Dr. Quinzel had treated the Joker while in Arkham Asylum causing some concern over her where abouts, especially after the recent death of her boss Doctor Joan Leeland. Gotham Police Department's Commissioner Gordon states that they intend to investigate Quinzel's apartment with in the next few days," the male newscaster concluded.

"Well whatdya now, you're famous Harleykins," smiled Joker.

Harley was not as amused, "Can they do that Mistah J, can they really go through my apartment? What do we do if they find out I'm with you?"

"Uh, nothing. What are ya so worried about? I say let em' find out," he shrugged, "In fact why don't we stop by you're place and give em' something to find,"

"I don't know Mistah J,"

"Aw come on Harl you're with me now, don't care what everyone thinks. Besides what's the worst that can happen? Hm, we get caught? I get put back in Arkham?," he scoffed, "Look what happened last time I got caught,"

"I guess you're right," Harley said.

"Of course I'm right," Joker said in a song song voice, "Now c'mon," he grabbed Harley's hand.

"But what about watching the news. We gotta find out more about Wayne's party remembah," she reminded him.

"I'll put Chuckles in charge if it, now let's go. We've got alooot of re-decorating to do,"

* * *

After driving to Harley's old apartment building the couple made their way inside. They did not meet any other tenants in the hall, but Harley supposed it would not matter if they did. Joker would make quick work of anyone in their way. She wasn't feeling nervous any more. Not with Mr. J. Harley Quinn liked the reassured feeling she found with him. She entwined her hand in his gloved one and smiled at him. Never had Harleen Quinzel felt such complete security and confidence. She wasn't sure why she felt so safe with Joker when logic screamed the opposite. But since she had accepted her transformation from Dr. Quinzel to Harley Quinn many things began to lack in logic.

Joker picked the lock on Harley's apartment door and went inside. Harley closed the door behind them. The apartmant was begining to dim with the setting sun, it cast shadows across the room. It felt odd to her, though she had only stayed with Joker a few days it felt like forever since she had been in her apartment.

"So what did ya mean by redecoratin' Mistah J?" she asked while looking around her once familiar apartment.

"Ya know messin' things up," he knocked a coffee table on to it's side, "Ole' Gordon probably thinks I kidnapped ya or something. Sooo let's let him think that. That way it'll be even more fun when he finds out the truth about Har-ley Quinn," he giggled to himself.

Joker began tossing knick-knacks off a shelve near him, letting them crash to the floor. He picked up a picture frame. The photograph inside it was a man, a women and a child. He recognized the little girl's shiny blond hair.

"Are these you're parent's Harley?" he turned and held up the picture.

She stopped ransacking her own kitchen to look, "Yep," she replied, "Good ole' Mom and Pop,"

"Thoought sooo," he pulled a red sharpie out of his trench coat pocket, "So uh, when do I get ta meet em' Harls?" he started drawing red smiles across their mouths.

Harley laughed, "Oh that'd be somthin', I'm sure they'd love ya," she said sarcastically.

"Of course they would," he finished the look with a black sharpie for their eyes, "Can I call your mother Mom too?"

Harley Quinn laughed a reply and scattered some pots and pans onto the floor.

The clown produced a knife from his pocket and retracted the blade. He stabbed it into the couch and drug it across the cushion leaving large slits in the fabric exposing the couch's stuffing. Harley sat on the kitchen floor and watched him. She was perfectly content to simply observe him. She sighed lovingly in adoration of her Mr. J, there was nobody like him. She watched him stab the couch a few more times then step back and stare at his knife. She noticed this particular weapon was his favorite, it was a very unique knife. It resembled a potato peeler somewhat with a space in the center of it's thick blade.

Joker looked at the blade thoughtfully for a breif moment before he began unbuttoning his green waistcoat, followed by his shirt. Then he lowered his knife and made a cut across his middle.

"What are ya doin'?" Harley shrieked while jumping to her feet.

"What's it look like I'm doin'?" he respond casually.

He removed a leather glove and pressed his hand over the cut, now sleeping with blood.

"I'm reeepainting," he ran his bloody hand down the wall leaving a streaky, red hand print.

"B-but ya just cut yourself? What if it gets infected," she rushed to him trying to examine his wound.

"It won't, my knife's clean," he scrawled HA HA HA across the wall with a blood covered fingertip.

Harley had a hard time believing that considering Joker's messy apartment, not to mention his personal hygiene.

Almost as if he had read her mind he began to explain, "I always make sure my knives are nice and clean. I mean, say I'm gonna torture someone over a long period of time," he waved his bloody knife around, talking with his hands, "I wouldn't want my victim to die of infection before I was done with them, no. And don't worry baby doll, it's just a flesh wound," he gestured towards his cut and returned to painting.

"If ya say so Mistah J," she said sceptically and turned to go.

"Wait, Harley," he stopped her, "For the sake of DNA testing I'll need some your's to,"

"My-" she began.

Joker interrupted, "Blood ye-ah, c'mere,"

Harley slowly approached him again.

"It doesn't hurt," he emphasized the "t", he pressed the blade on her upper arm, "Just a liiitle sting and it's over,"

She whimpered as he drew a bloody line across her skin, she tried desperately not to cry.

"All done," he sang painting little hearts with Harley's blood.

When Joker finished "repainting" Harley went to the bathroom in search of band-aids. She found a box of them in a drawer under the sink. She spread one across her wounded arm and opened one for Mr. J, who was now messing up her bedroom.

"Here Mistah J," she held out the band-aid.

"I don't need that Harl," he protested.

"At least put it on so ya don't bleed on ya shirt,"

"Just leave it alone it'll heal. May-be leave a nice scar," he licked his lips.

"Are ya proud of ya scars Mistah J?" she asked curious I to why he seemed eager to get another.

"Do you know what a scar is Harls, it's uh, your body healing itself-uh. But see, the uh scar tissue that replaces your skin iiis ne-ver the same. I think it's in-ter-esting, I mean if the human body is sooo complex that it can heal itself," he traces his scarred smile, "Why can't it look the same as the skin before. I see it as kind of a metaphor, cause since I got these scars...," he lowered his voice, "I've never been the same,"

He stepped towards Harley and stroked her bandaged wound, "Thiiis," he began, "This will look different from your oth-er arm. It'll probably leave a little white line when it heals. Get it now? I changed you forever," he held her face in his hands, "How's it feel?"

It was a small cut on her arm, it didn't seem like much. But Harley supposed it meant something more. She was Harley Quinn, mostly because of him and now Harleen Quinzel was never coming back.

"Hey," Joker broke the silence, "Wanna really confuse Gordon?" he asked tugging at the waist pant of her shorts.

"Sure," she smiled leaning closer to kiss him.

He picked her up and playfully tossed her in bed. Harley giggled as he followed, straddling her and kissed neck trailing down to her exposed cleavage. Closing her eyes she moaned causing him to kiss more hungrily across her chest, occasionally biting down on her neck. Then she felt a sharp pain on her arm. Joker slid a small knife across her arm making a cut just below her other one. He sat up and finger painted the blood onto the white sheets. After he had finished he threw the knife aside, stabbing it into a wall and began kissing Harley Quinn again. He worked quickly removing her shorts as she began to tug down his pants. Joker didn't bother with her top, he wanted to make it quick. Just to leave more for the forensic team to test when they searched the apartment. He pulled off her underwear before removing his own and then thrust into her.

At first Harley tried not to scream but found herself quickly lost in the moment. She squealed with pleasure, her hips involuntarily bucking against him. The moment did not last long. Joker got off her and began dressing again. She lay in bed panting, she looked at her arm. Both cuts were now bleeding.

"Alright, that's good. We better get goin'," he buttoned up his shirt.

Harley sat up gripping her bleeding arm, "Already, are ya sure?" she whined, "We could do it on the couch. That'd be confusing for Gordy too,"

"No Harley, if anything we'd do it on the counter top. But no, we better head home. Get dressed," he walked back into the living room to add some final touches.

Harley dressed and apply new band-aids to her arm. She stepped out into the living room, Mr, J had began writing "Joker was here" across the windows with a black sharpie. She looked around the apartment, now trashed and blood stained.

"Looks great Mistah J," she took one last look.

"I know," he returned the marker to his pocket, "Aaand soon the police will come, they'll take a few looks around and have Dr. Quinzel dead and gone,"

Harley Quinn smiled, "She is,"

* * *

_So I was thinking about why the Joker was so eager to tell his wonderful scar stories and I came up with two conclusions. One it's scary. I've watched TDK over and over again but everytime he tells that first scar story I get chills. Two, I think they mean something more to him. TDK Joker seems to view everything on a much greater scale then normal people. So I sat here and thought about what deep meaning the scars could hold for him and it occured to me that the Joker was like a scar to Jack. (I assume TDK Joker was once Jack as well if ya haven't noticed by now... I don't really know for sure I just didn't know what else to call him) Because it's obvious horrible traumatic things happened to Jack and when he was wounded physically, mentally, emotionally he had to heal himself. Joker is how he healed. And like a scar it is a completely different thing then what it once was. Though I still like the idea of Joker being convinced that the Joker is who he really is and that everyone has a dark side kinda deal. I've just combined the two._


	12. Deja Vu

"So what have ya got for me?" Joker flopped down on the henchmen's couch.

Harley assumed her position on his lap, her arms delicately draped around his neck.

Chuckles handed him a piece of notebook paper with the information about Bruce Wayne's party. He shifted uncomfortably hoping he provided enough news on the party. Chuckles knew he had been getting cocky with work. He had got along so well with his boss before he was beginning to forget about his own mortality. And being the Joker's henchmen he was definitely in more danger then the average employee. He didn't want to slip up and lose some very vital body part. He thought of all the macabre things his boss was capable of to keep himself from saying anything to piss Joker off.

"It's on Halloween at eight," the henchman explained, "It's for some charity, I dunno somethin' about kids, oh and it's a masquerade party,"

Joker shook his head, "A masquerade party, could it be any more per-fect?" he sighed, "Could Wayne make it easier for me to crash?"

Harley squealed with excitement, "Oh this is gonna be so much fun Mistah J! What are we goin' as?"

"Dunno, I guess we'll hafta decide. Halloween's in a few days," he bit his lip in concentration, "Hmm, do ya think I'd make a good Batman?"

"You'd be twice as handsome as the real one," Harley giggle and began playing with his tie.

"True, but you could see my scars through the cowl," he realized, "Well I supoose we could continue with our uh, little clown theme. It would be soo obvious and therefore hil-ar-ious when the party goers find out it's me,"

"Ya right Mistah J. That would be funny," Harley Quinn agreed.

Joker was a little annoyed with the clown girl's eagerness to agree with him. On the other hand it was somewhat amusing how he had managed to suck all the free will out of her. That was something to take pride in. He watched her, his little creation. With her two-tone pigtails and her painted lips smiling at him with adoration, it confused the hell out of him.

He was used to conflicting emotions but this was different. Harley's loyalty was fascinating but at the same time he wanted to destroy it. Why should she trust him so much? Had he given her the reason to do so? She was just sitting there. On his lap, touching him and smiling at him without the slightest care in the world. _She should be nervous, _he thought. At any moment he could pull out one of his many knives and mercilessly cut her to pieces. And he wouldn't regret it either, in fact he would enjoy it. It would feel so good. Excitement came over him at the mental image of Harley Quinn broken and bloody on the floor. Blood lots and lots of blood, all over her. Seeping out of that pretty little mouth of her's. Her eyes wide with fear and pain. Then finally that last bit of life would flicker out of them leaving her dead and cold. _Why aren't you afraid damn it,_he was beginning to get angrier the longer he thought about it. He glared at her.

"What is it Mistah J?" she said with some confusion but still smiling at him.

His hand twitched longing for a knife. He was so tempted to sink a blade into her smooth flesh and make that smile permanent.

"Mistah J?" she repeated waving a hand in front of his face.

With that Joker grabbed her wrist and slammed her into a lying down position on the couch. He straddled her waist and looked down at her. There it was, fear. Finally a Harley wore a frightened look across her painted face. He watched the look on her face for a moment and wondered what she was thinking. He thought about her disappointment as she was now faced with the reality that she dealing with a mad dog. He was wild and unpredictable, he wanted to make sure she knew that.

He loved everything about her expression right now. Eyes wide her full lips parted slightly as if wanted to say something but afraid to. Just how it should be. The clown thought about his favorite knife in the pocket of his trench coat. He imagined stabbing her with it, over and over again. He thought of the blade shredding her neck and tasting the thick, red blood that would spray out of her.

His mind raced trying to decide what to do, desperately trying not to act on impulse as he generally did. Harley may prove herself useful down the road, if he killed her now he's never know. Besides he wanted to see how much further he could push the former doctor. Though frustrating she was becoming somewhat of a fun hobby for him. Exasperation welled up inside him. He didn't want to wait, he wanted her dead.

Tears began to form in Harley's eyes. Her lips trembled. Joker paused, there was something so irresistible about her fear.

He licked his scared lips and then crashed them into her's. Harley shrieked, surprised by his mouth suddenly cover her own. He forced his tongue past her lips and into her mouth. He ran it roughly along the inside of her cheeks before biting her lip causing a muffled scream from her. Joker heard the apartment door slam assuming Chuckles had decided to leave, but he didn't care. He continued exploring Harley's opened mouth. He could tell that she was beginning to enjoy his rough kisses, she tried repeatedly to embrace him or touch his scars. The fact that her fear was leaving made him angry, he slapped her bare thigh, she let out a muffled cry. Mr. J pushed her hands away before finally adjusting himself on top of her so that his knees pinned down her arms as he gripped her shoulders. He bit her hard on the lip again making her shriek in pain.

Harley began to struggle beneath him, arms beginning to ache. But Joker quickly corrected her by squeezing her arms harder. She was accustomed to Mr. J's usual roughness but every time she began to enjoy him he would bite her or smack her. She didn't understand what her man wanted. She also wondered why he hadn't began removing her clothes like he usually did, at least that is what their make-out sessions often led to. Instead he remained over her painfully kissing her mouth.

She tasted the metallic flavor of blood in her mouth the next time he bit down on her lip. She screamed.

"Shut up," Joker growled hitting her again.

Shortly after that he pulled away and sat up again. Breathing heavily he scowled at her once more and climbed off. Harley stayed laying on the couch until she heard his footsteps fade and the door slam. She sat up feeling a strange mixture of both relief and longing. She was glad he had stopped hurting heard yet she was sad he was gone. In a strange way she wished he was still on top of her. At least he had been kissing her, rough and painful as it may have been. And more than anything in the world Harley Quinn loved Mr. J's full attention.

She rose in search of some tissues for her bleeding lip. After searching though the living room she found nothing and settled for a napkin out of the kitchen. Somewhat of a deja vu feeling came over her as she dabbed the blood off the inside of her bottom lip. She recalled being a slightly similar situation with the Joker in Arkham. But that felt so long ago.

Harley sat back down on the lumpy couch in the middle of the room. She could not figure out what was wrong with Mr. J. Was it something she said? She replayed the conversation in her head, she did nor recall doing anything wrong. Though he had mentioned Batman and his scars. Maybe that's what upset him.

She sighed, "Poor Mistah J,"

* * *

_Yeah, this is a very short chapter but I really wanted to end with Harley saying "Poor Mistah J". Plus I think it made it's point, I wanted to remind everyone of Joker's unstable mind and how unpredictable he is. I think to many Joker/Harley stories dissolve into a mushy romance as the fanfiction progresses and I so I wanted to make sure that didn't happen to mine._

_I think Harley's pain and fear is kind of a turn on for Joker, like in All My Balloons when her lip is bleeding. I like to make him go from being ready to murder her to making out with her, in case you haven't noticed._


	13. Best Friends

Jonathan looked at the clock, it read a quarter till two in the morning. He rubbed his temples, he wasn't tired but he was hitting a dead end with the laughing gas. He refused to accept that it was a lack of intelligence on his part. He knew he was struggling with the chemical because it was a stupid idea, he did not want to make it. _So quit, _Scarecrow spoke up. Jonathan rolled his eyes, as if that was a possibility. _Quit. Give that damn clown a nice, lethal dose of fear gas and walk out. _I sounded like a good idea, but he unlike the Scarecrow had thought it through. He had absolutely no idea what Joker's reaction to the toxin would be before he died. With his luck it would be a violent one. The fear gas had a different effect on everyone he had tested, there's no way of knowing what the clown would do. _You'll never know unless you try, _his alter ego added. What he said was true, but Jonathan couldn't take that risk. Beside the police had confiscated all of his precious toxin. It angered him to think about all his hard work going to waste in the hands of the Gotham PD.

He pushed the ingredients aside deciding Spades had gotten him the wrong chemicals and called it a night.

He decided to attempt sleeping. This was difficult for him ever since the Batman gave him a shot of his own toxin. The ignorance of the doctors in the emergency room still pissed him off. They hadn't done anything for him after he was poisoned. All they could do was stand around and discuss the fact they didn't know what to do for him. So thanks to those wonderful doctors and of course Batman, he suffered from horrible night terrors every night. But Jonathan supposed he should be thankful. At least it hadn't killed him or caused permanent hallucinations making his waking hours just as bad as his nightmares.

He lay on the couch since he could not bring himself to rest in the apartment's bed. Though the couch wasn't any more pleasant, it reeked of what smelled like cat urine and was horribly stained. Jonathan hated The Narrows. It was so disgusting, he stared at the ceiling. A large reddish-brown splotch stained the gray paint. He wondered if it was blood, though he had no idea how such a large blood stain could have reached the ceiling. Suddenly a clown girl sprung into his view of the possible blood stain.

"Hiya Jonny," she yelled while standing over him.

"H-Harley I didn't hear you come in," he said shocked by her sudden appearance.

"What are ya doin'?" she asked, "Oh my god, ya were asleep weren't chya and I woke ya up. I'm sorry,"

"No I wasn't. I was just laying here," he sat up.

"Really? Is the ceiling that interestin'?" she looked up a the stain, "Hey it'sa bunny," she giggled.

"What are you talking about," Jonathan responded a little annoyed.

"Up there, that stain is shaped like a bunny," she pointed to another spot in the carpet, "And that one is a flower,"

Jonathan stared at her, baffled by the former doctors lack of intellect, "Oh yes I see it to," he said flatly, "Now is there something you wanted?"

"I'm bored," she whined, "I wanted someone ta talk to," she sat on the couch next to him.

"Where's Joker?"

Harley looked down, "I dunno," she said sadly, "I think he's mad at me... I don't know why though,"

_Exactly why a homicidal maniac is not good boyfriend material, _Jonathan thought. Though he didn't tell Harley that. He didn't want to risk her taking another hissy-fit, no matter how badly he wanted to say I told you so. He decided it would be childish of him and was satisfied with knowing he was right.

The clown girl still stared down at the floor, looking sad. He wondered if he should try to comfort her, he really didn't want to. Jonathan just wanted her to leave him alone.

"Why don't you wait for him in your apartment," he suggested.

Harley ignored him, "What if he finds someone else Jonny? Someone who doesn't make him mad... I always make him mad. What if he wants ta break up?"

Jonathan sighed, "I don't know much about relationships. Try getting advice from someone else," he made one last attempt to make her leave.

"I don't need any advice Jonny, I just need to talk to somebody," she explained, "C'mon we always used ta talk. Remember?"

"Yes but that was when you were sane and I was your patient. It was your job to talk to me and I had to cooperate," he said coldly.

With that Harley burst into tears. She rubbed her eyes covering her fingers in wet black make up.

Scarecrow was enjoying her little break down somewhat. He was content to watch before kicking her out, but Jonathan was confused. He didn't know how to react to the girl crying beside him. Usually when he witnessed a woman crying hysterically it was because he just shot fear gas in her face. This was different.

He groaned, "Don't cry," he reluctantly patted her back, "If you want to talk... I guess can listen,"

"Really," she sniffed.

"Sure," he sighed.

He really didn't want to. Her preferred to be left alone to think about how much he hated his new job. He decided it would at least be interesting from a psychological point of view to listen to the ramblings of Harley Quinn.

"Thanks Jonny," she hugged him tightly around his neck, "I've nevah had a best friend before,"

_Great,_ Jonathan thought, _I'm her best friend now. _Scarecrow laughed at him.

* * *

Joker returned about two hours later with Spades and a henchmen he had named Bozo. They had been breaking into costume shops across Gotham in search of some party disguises. Their search was successful and Mr. J was eager to show Harley their costumes. Humming he entered their apartment and kicked open the bedroom door.

"Harley," he called into the dark room.

He tossed the costumed aside and turned on the lights expecting Harley to be in bed. But she wasn't, the bed was empty.

"Harley," he yelled and began looking through the rest of the apartment.

He wondered why she wasn't in bed, what else could she possibly have to do besides wait for him.

She was supposed to be here. She was supposed to be in their apartment, in bed, waiting for him to get home. Right that moment she should have been in his arms. She should have been overwhelmed with excitement that he was home and giggling in that annoying way she did everytime she was happy. But she was no where to be found.

"You'd better not be hi-ding," he gritted his teeth, "I won't be happy if I hafta find yooou," he said becoming increasingly frustrated.

She wasn't in the apartment. It occurred to him that she had ran off, she seemed upset when he left. The thought of Harley leaving him made him angrier. He clenched his fists and stormed out to look in his office.

"Ya think I won't find you," he mumbled, "Ya think you can just leave. No,"

If she was had tried to run off she'd regret it. After not finding her in his office he recalled where she had been before he left, Chuckles apartment. Storming across the hall, he flung opened the door. Chuckles was still awake watching television on the couch. Joker looked around the room as he drew a pistol out of his purple trench coat.

"Quick, tell me where Harley is," he said as he cocked the gun and aimed it at Chuckles's head.

The henchmen froze, he had no idea where Joker's clown girl was. Sure she had been in the apartment, but by the time Chuckles returned she was gone. He racked his brain for ideas knowing his boss would soon run out of patience.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, "Um she ain't here," he began.

"I didn't ask where she wa-sn't," the clown pressed the gun into the other man's temple.

"That new guy, uhhh Scarecrow. She's hangin' wit him," Chuckles nervously made up an answer.

His boss bought it and removed the weapon before heading to the door.

"Damn I hope I'm right," he cringed and said to himself once the Joker had gone.

Jonathan's apartment was not far from Chuckles's. They were both in the same hallway, about two doors down. Approaching the door the clown retracted a knife before swiftly opening it.

Jonathan and Harley sat on the couch, still talking.

"Harley Harley Harley Quinn," Joker came from behind her and jerked back her hair, forcing her to look upwards at him, "What the hellll are ya doin' sweetie," he place the knife in her throat, "I just came home from work and ya know what?" he emphasized the "t".

"What?" she replied timidly.

"No one was there to greet me, no," he shook his head, "And I don't like that, not one bit,"

"I'm sorry Mistah J, I'm so sorry. I'll make it up ta ya I promise," Harley said quickly, "Da ya forgive me?"

Joker made an exaggerated "thinking" face, "Weeellll, I am in a good mood, sooo sure," he returned the weapon to his pocket.

"Aaaw Mistah J you're the best," she sprung to her feet and hugged him tightly.

She began kissing his mouth and up his scars, standing on her tip toes to reach the top of the longest one.

"Okay Harl, that's enough. Save somethin' for the bedroom," he pryed her off, "Cause ya know, I'm gonna hold ya to what you said about uh, mak-ing it up to meee,"

Harley giggled, "Of course puddin',"

Jonathan rolled his eyes. He wondered if the Joker always said such inappropriate things in front of people or if he just saved that for "Jonny". What he found even more disgusting was the fact that her "puddin'", as she called him, had just threatened her with a knife. Yet in a matter of two minutes she was bouncing around kissing him. It was insanity, but Jonathan supposed he could not expect anything else from those two. Especially with his new found insight on Harley's psyche.

Yes, those (very long) couple of hours with Harley had been quite informative, but no less disturbing. She laughed, she cried, she told Jonathan how good Joker was in bed. And of course she described everything in great detail.

"So I uh guess I'll be goin' Jonny," Harley interrupted his thoughts, "This was fun though, we outa do it again sometime. Only next time I'll bring cookies. I was sucha bad guest just droppin' by empty handed like that,"

"No not at all," he replied thinking of how she just appeared in the room, without warning.

"Ya so sweet," the clown girl giggled, Jonathan's sarcasm obviously going over her head, "I'll see ya then," she called as she existed.

* * *

_TDK Joker was described as having zero empathy (I think Heath said that. GAH I miss him) I think that when he was getting aggressive with Harley in Chuckles's apartment he wouldn't understand why he upset her. It's complicated though, I think he knows he's inflicted pain he just doesn't fully grasp how it made her feel. Kinda like a little kid. When my lil brother was like two he would bite alot and he knew it was to hurt people, but he couldn't understand why it would make the bit person upset, so he had no remorse. Yeah I just compared my brother to the Joker. If he knew that he'd yell "I'm Spiderman, idiot" and punch me in the face. (But now he's old enough to apologize :D)_

_I love writing things for Joker and Harley that sound like normal domestic life like "I just came home from work" when really he was out breaking into stores and stealing stuff. It's almost like they are under the impression they have a normal relationship, Harley more so than Joker._


	14. Creepy Mimes

Harley pulled back her black and red hair in a tight bun. It reminded her of when she worked at Arkham, when she was boring. She pulled a short, curly wig over her two toned hair.

"Almost ready Harl?" she heard Joker ask.

"Almost Mistah J," she called back.

She added a bit more black mascara to her eyelashes. Joker had done her mime make up for Bruce Wayne's party. Her face was of course white, blackened diamond shapes covered her blue eyes, small sections of her lips were painted to match the rosy red circles on her cheeks.

Harley Quinn fluffed her fake hair. She liked the way the shiny platinum hair looked on her, it was much blonder than she was naturally. She decided when she was tired of black and red she'd bleach her hair. The clown girl carefully pinned a little top hat with a veil attached to her mess of curls.

She stepped out of the bathroom, "Okay I'm ready. How do I look," she asked as she twirled a a circle letting her lacy skirt float up.

"Wonderful, as always," Mr. J responded while tucking various knives into his own costume.

After securing his weapons he stood and adjusted his black straight jacket. Joker bent down to see his refection in the TV screen and began smoothing back his green and dirty blond hair before tying it in a small ponytail.

"Ya look handsome," Harley complimented, "In a scary sorta way,"

He smiled and picked up a clown mask lying on the bed. Then Harley and pressed a kiss upon his scarred lips. Mr. J began to kiss back.

Harley Quinn noted his kiss was much gentler then it had ever been. Ecstasy swam over her and her heart fluttered. _He does love me,_she reassured herself. She felt his free hand curl around her waist through her corset top dress. He pulled her closer to him. Harley let her hands wander up and down the buckles and straps on the straight jacket costume. It was like the kind of kisses in fairy tales, the kind she had secretly dreamt of.... well almost. Slow and sweet, it felt so could. She even held her one foot in the air, the way women always seemed to do in romantic, old movies. And then he pulled away.

"Better get going," he stated before he simply turned and walked away, spinning his mask on his finger.

Harley took a moment to collect her thoughts and fix her makeup which now mingled with some of Joker's own lipstick. She carefully touched up her lips, the taste of Mr. J still lingering on them.

Joker sat in the back of the van, waiting for Harley and his employees. He idly played with one of his many knives. He casually flipped it in and out, much to his driver's dismay. It amused him, watching the henchman in the drivers seat shifting nervously watching the Joker in the rear view mirror.

Eventually he left the knife retracted and began to dig it's blade into the soft leather of the seat before him. After boring a good sized whole in it he decided to get creative. He drew a knife and a bat, which was difficult to draw in the seat's material. Joker scrawled "Joker and Harley" across the seat beside him then surrounded the two names with a big misshapen heart.

He let out a sigh. He wasn't sure what he was doing or what he was thinking back there. Harley had just walked up and kissed him. No permission, no shyness about it and he allowed it. Why? She was not supposed to do that. His attention to Harley Quinn was not to be taken so casually, no it had to be earned.

Joker was somewhat angry with himself for losing control over his pet. He was even angrier that he had enjoyed her kiss. Though he always enjoyed their little sexual adventures this was different. It was a simple, innocent kiss. No biting, no moaning, it was absolutely boring and yet he had a difficult time pulling away. He had no idea why.

Harley finally came and climbed into the backseat with him.

"Puddin' will you dance with me at the party," she entwined her fingers in his and lay her head on his shoulder, "Before Bats comes that is,"

He stared at her, it was happening right now. Harley Quinn had control.

Joker pulled his hand form her grasp and slammed her face into the seat in front of them. It made him feel somewhat better.

Harley gently touched her nose trying not to remove any make-up, "Ow, so I uh I guess that's a no then huh Mistah J,"

* * *

Joker, Harley and several henchmen arrived at Bruce Wayne's pent house fashionably late, all of them in costume. Mr. J had went with a creepy mime theme for their costumes.

The group walked into the party without any suspicions from any other guests, since everyone there wore a costume.

Mean while Bruce Wayne stood observing the guests at his party. Occasionally talking to some fellow billionaires with a champagne glass in hand and a blond on his arm.

He looked at her in her skanky angel costume, she was clearly a fake blond. It was obvious she got spray tans and he assumed the rather large breasts peeking out from the top of her white dress were not real either. He pondered for a moment why his Bruce Wayne persona had such bad taste in women. Of course the young lady on his arm was attractive, someone most men would be immediately drawn to. But she was just so artificial, a life size Barbie doll. Besides that she and Bruce had only just met three days ago. They went out once. He scarcely remembered her name, it was hard to keep track of the many women in the billionaire playboys life and he hated that. He hated sleeping with a different women every week, having to flirt, make dates, he despised every moment. Unfortunately however, Bruce Wayne's social life was crucial. It disguised Batman.

He recalled what Rachel had said. He remembered that day, standing on a charred rubble that was Wayne Manor. She caressed his face and looked into his eyes, "This is your mask," she had said. She was right. He noticed it more and more, he was Batman. He thought back to Rachel. Not a day went by when he didn't think of her, all the things he should have said to her. Everything he could have done differently. Now she was gone. It made putting on his Bruce Wayne mask even more difficult when he was grieving behind it.

Never had he expected to lose Rachel. He thought he could keep her safe. She was going to wait for him.

"Brucey, are you listening to me," a voice whined breaking his thoughts.

"What?" he replied to his date.

"I said, you should dance with me," her tone was now aggravated from being ignored.

"Alright then," he took her hand.

"No," the blond pulled it away, "Maybe I feel like dancing with my friends now,"

With that she turned with her nose in the air and walked towards a group of equally scandalously clad angels.

Bruce didn't care that Barbie was walking away. It wasn't as if she meant anything to him, not like Rachel did. He wished his mind would stop constantly wandering back to her. But how could he ever forget her. He mentally kicked himself for trying to make her the focal point of his thoughts again and scanned the room. He supposed that if any paparazzi or gossip columnists had made there way into the masquerade party he should not be seen alone.

Another blond in the middle of the room caught his eye. Only instead of long, flowing extensions her hair was short and curly. Cut up to her ear accentuating her dainty neck. Her costume was different form the other women in the room. Instead of some naughty version of something usually innocent she was simply a mime. Her dress had somewhat of a Victorian look to it. With the exception of the wide, ruffled skirt ending slightly above her knees revealing striped tights.

He decided to make his way over to the mime girl.

"Would you like to dance," he asked as he approached her.

Harley pointed to herself to be sure it was her that Bruce Wayne was asking.

"Of course you," he replied as charmingly as possible.

"Oh well," she nervously laughed, "Actually my date is..." she looked around, Joker was no where to be seen.

"I'm sure he won't mind," Bruce took her hand.

"Uuuh I really don't think-" Harley tried to protest before the billionaire cut her off.

"And your name is?"

She drew a blank as he led her to the dance floor. She knew she could not say Harleen Quinzel, the doctor who recently went missing.

"My first name iiss uh K-Katherine," she croaked trying to think quickly (though failing at it).

"Well, Katherine, I assume you know who I am," he continued to hold her gloved hand.

"Why yes," she tried to speak properly, like Dr, Quinzel.

Bruce wrapped his arm around her waist and began swaying her to the sound of stringed instruments playing in the room, "So is your uh date wealthy or do you work?" he asked as if this "date" of her's had not existed.

"I work," was Harley's short reply.

"Ah, what do you do?" Bruce was somewhat satisfied this "Katherine" wasn't some guy's arm candy.

"I am a... doctor,"

"Really," he admired that she was making something of herself, "That's great. You probably know alot about the cause then,"

"Um what?" Harley Quinn asked confused.

"The reason I'm holding this fundraiser..."

"Oh, oh yes. The cause," she didn't respond past that.

"So what do you think of it Katherine. I'm sure you know more about these kids than I do,"

"Kids? Oh you misunderstood me, when I said doctor I meant an animal doctor. A vet," she laughed nervously again.

* * *

Joker pulled back his mask for a moment to chug a glass of champagne. He wiped it off his mouth, it was the scars. They made it difficult to perform normal mouth functions. He quickly drank another glass before anyone noticed the scars and face paint that lie beneath his clown mask.

He looked around the room. Harley was no where in sight. He lost her almost as soon as they arrived. She was probably frantic right now, searching through the crowds of guests. She deserved to be ignored for a little bit, what with her bad behavior so far today. Besides that, the clown needed some Harley-free time to think about his next move. Of course he had absolutely no plan. It was more like a concept, he new at some point he would ditch the clown mask causing chaos and panic through out the room. Then he would maybe hold a few people at knife point, tell some disturbing stories and if Batman wasn't there by that time he wasn't sure what he would do. But knowing Bats, he would not be able to stand those poor, "innocent" people being threatened by the clown. He'd be there.

Joker noticed a dark haired women standing near him. She was wearing a Can Can girl costume, she looked at him up and down, "What are you," she said in a snobbish tone referring to his costume.

"I'm a homicidal clown," he replied.

"Ew," she walked off.

Joker was beginning to laugh, that's when he saw Harley. He caught a quick glimpse of her on the dance floor with none other than Bruce Wayne. Now would be the perfect time to remove his mask. After all he had made sure a hand gun was strapped to his Harley's thigh. That way she could hold the billionaire at gun point once his disguise was gone.

* * *

"So about this date of your's," Bruce continued to make conversation, "Where do you think he ran off to,"

"I'm really here with a date you know," Harley said.

"I never said you weren't," he laughed.

"You implied it and you know it,"

"Yes I'm guilty of that," he began, "So what's this lucky guy's name anyway,"

"The Joker!" a female voice shrieked on the other side of the room.

* * *

_Sorry if the Bruce Wayne thinking about Rachel scene sucked (plays Bruce a sad song on the world's smallest violin). I don't think I'm really great at writing lovey stuff. Homicidal maniacs? Yes. Fluff? No. But I felt it was needed, especially since we've not yet been in Bruce's head. Which is definentlyneeded, he's a pretty fascinating character in my opinion. Not as intriguing as the Joker but almost._

_The thing about Bruce is that he's such a player but I think deep down he doesn't really like that life. Basically because he's Batman. The whole theme of the Batman series (movies, comics, cartoons) is about people becoming "who they really are". Bruce Wayne is really Batman and I don't think Batman enjoys Bruce's life very much._

_I had Harley say her name was Katherine because I picture my Harley Quinn as Katherine Heigl. I think she'd be a good Dr. Quinzel as well as Harley Quinn and to me that's really important to be able to fit into both versions of the character. Plus she's got a huge smile._

_So that's all, Happy Friday the 13th everybody!_


	15. No Batman

By this time screams and paniced voices were raised though out the room.

Bruce let go of "Katherine" and looked around the room alerted. He couldn't quite see the clown anywhere. He was hoping it was only someone in a costume and not really the Joker. But as he turned back to the young lady he had been dancing with he realized this was all to real.

Harley laughed with a machine pistol aimed at Bruce's face, "How did she know?" her accent had returned, "Put chya hands up sweetheart,"

He reluctantly did as she said. His position was a difficult one, if he reacted to the situation people may suspect that Bruce Wayne was the caped crusader. Still, he had to do something. If he could just slip out of the party for a moment he could return as Batman. However it didn't look as though the clown girl was going to let him go anywhere.

Just than a shot gun sounded from what was apparently one of the Joker's men. The deafening gun shot silenced the guests.

"Well, well, well," Bruce heard Joker's voice echo through the room, "It seems like everyone remembers meee,"

The henchmen who had been hiding among other guests began to emerge, dressed in mime suits. Each of them handling a gun, they forced the crowd into groups on either side of the room. Then Bruce saw him, the Joker was now in his view. Standing there in a dark straight jacket, his mask tossed aside revealing his trade mark face paint and twisting facial scars.

Bruce glared at him. Hate burned within him towards that man. For what he did to Gotham, for what he did to Dent. But most of all Rachel. Bruce made a promise to himself that he would never become an executioner, but no one made him consider breaking that rule more than the Joker. He practiced every ounce of restraint he could and looked towards Harley.

The clown girl blew a kiss towards Joker. Bruce Wayne was even more disgusted. As well as somewhat disappointed in this girl. She was probably the one who broke him out of Arkham the second time.

"So I'll uh get right to the point," Joker began speaking again, "I'm obv-ious-ly not here because uh Bruce over there throws such great parties. I'm here looking for a bat-uh,"

For a moment Bruce tensed.

"Not that I think any of you people are the Batman," he added, "I just figured if anything he'd show up heeere. So you can all relax, sit down, I'm simp-ly using you as bait," he removed his straight jacket, his signature purple suit beneath it.

This was going to be bad, Bruce knew the Joker's reaction would not be a good one when Batman failed to appear. But what could he do, he was trapped here. If he could have gotten to his "Batcave" he would have in a heart beat. Instead he knew he'd have to stay and watch homicidal clown's mood worsen.

All the guests began to slowly sit down on the floor, including Bruce. Harley sat beside him.

"Sorry I lied ta ya," she whispered, "I just couldn't tell ya who I really was for well obvious reasons. Ya undahstand right?" she waved her weapon around, "Ya know I don't care what the tabloids say you are a nice guy Bruce Wayne,"

He didn't respond.

"So that's it?" a man in a pirate costume spoke up.

"You're wearing an eye patch, do you honestly expect me to take you ser-ious-ly?" Joker sighed.

He yanked of the eye patch, "You crashed a party so you could get Batman to notice you? How childish is that?" the younger man said frustrated, "And are we just expected to sit around and wait patiently,"

Joker stared at the man sitting on the floor and tilted his head to one side. He wondered what kind of man was stupid enough to talk to him that way. Especially a man who was unarmed and surround by men who were.

"Oh, are you bored? Hmm?," he stepped closer to him, "Maybe I could provide some enter-tainment for ya. Hm would you like that?" Joker asked nodded as if talking to a child.

Bruce quietly cleared his throat and leaned closer to Harley, "Would it be possible for you to let me leave?"

Harley giggled, "No silly, didn't chya here Mistah J? We're waitin' for Batman,"

Joker leaned on one knee so that he was eye level with the man, "I'm a magician of sorts. I bet that I can make your little uh frown disappear," he waved his hands around.

"Yes I heard him," Bruce replied to Harley trying to look at her and trying watch the Joker at the same time, "It's just that I'm Bruce Wayne," he caught a glance of a large knife Joker held behind his back, "I can give you and your boyfriend what ever you want," he said with a little more urgency.

"Mistah J ain't interested in money," she shrugged.

Bruce looked towards the clown and the man who had dared to mouth off, "I know," he said quietly.

Joker roughly grabbed the man's face and slid the knife he held into his victim's mouth, "Abracadabra," he whispered.

With that he sliced into the man's face into a gorey smile. Blood splattered out of the cuts and onto the surrounding guests. Screams rang out among the crowd. The Joker's victim passed out quickly from the pain, he slumped over on the women next to him, his eyes rolled back in his head.

Mr. J wiped the thick, crimson blood of his knife and onto the soon-to-be dead man's costume.

Bruce let out a frustrated sigh and ran his fingers through his gelled hair. The death of that man was his fault, he could have stopped that. No, Batman could have stopped that. But it was his fault the Batman was not present. He had been to busy being Bruce Wayne. He felt sick as he watched the bleeding man and the horrified women who screamed beneath him.

He looked around the room, most of the people around him would fall victim to the clown tonight. And the only thing he could do was watch. Batman wasn't coming and the Joker would only become angrier as time passed without the arrival of a giant bat.

He felt guilty. He wanted to protect these people, despite Gotham's hatred of the Batman. They needed his protection but what could he do. The Joker didn't want Bruce.

Harley still aimed her gun towards Bruce. He looked at her, she was clearly paying to attention to him, her hostage. The clown girl watched the Joker. Her eyes following his every move, an affectionate smile on her lips. It bothered him somewhat how careless the women was while holding a weapon. What a twist of irony that would be if she slipped and shot him. The Joker would have had Batman killed without even knowing it, something he said he didn't want to do. Though it would not be the Clown Prince of Crime directly shooting, just his girlfriend. Bruce had assumed they were a couple. Judging by the look of love and adoration in Harley's eyes. He had seen that look before… from Rachel.

* * *

Commissioner Gordon looked over the report on Harleen Quinzel's apartment once again. He had been there personally over seeing things. It had been a disturbing scene. Blood was painted across the walls, Dr. Quinzel's belonging laying every where, most of them broken or slashed apart with a knife. There appeared to have been a defiant struggle in the apartment.

He flipped through the file. He came to the reports on the other rooms in the apartment. Quinzel's bedroom had been a mess as well, much like the living room and kitchen. Furniture in disrepair, blood and... other substances in the bed.

At the moment the Commissioner had no idea what to make of the situation. He knew the doctor was gone and the Joker was loose on the streets of Gotham. Those were the only things he could be sure of. As for what Joker was plotting or what he was going to do with Harleen Quinzel (assuming she was still alive), Gordon was at a loss. And this time he didn't have Batman to work with. He was supposed to be searching for the masked vigilante as well.

Gordon looked at a picture taken at Quinzel's apartment. It displayed her bloodstained bed. The test results had not yet returned but Commissioner Gordon assumed it was Dr. Quinzel's blood wiped across the sheets. He regretted not doing more. Not trying harder to assure her protection. He had called to warn her about the Joker but calling obviously wasn't enough. He knew he should have sent officers to guard the building. However he didn't know who he could trust and the clown still may have made it into the building.

Just then Detective Ramiraz hurried into the room, "Commissioner," she began, "We just got a 911 call, the Joker is at Bruce Wayne's penthouse,"

* * *

"Where the hell are you," Joker growled staring out one of the large windows in the pent house, "Come and save the innocent people, damn it,"

"M-maybe he gave up. The p-p-police are af-after him you know," one of the henchmen stuttered, "Maybe we sh-should lea-leave,"

He was a new guy, fresh out of Arkham with that annoying speech impediment. Joker hated it. The new employee hadn't known any better. He did not know that the Joker wasn't about to take suggestions from one of his lackey's. He cocked his head to one side and stared at the man. His gaze was cold animalistic. With that he walked towards him and stabbed him in the chest with the same large knife he had used to kill the pirate. Joker shove the henchmen to the floor, knocking the shot gun out of his hands. Then he continued to stab the already dead man repeatedly in the mid-section, taking some pent up aggression out on his former employee.

He sat back on the floor, breathing heavily as he looked at the mutilated body. He wiped some little blood splatters of his forehead making a pink smear of paint and blood stain the back of his hand. _Why isn't Batman coming? _The question tormented him. He had been holding these people here for almost an hour now. He had already killed six people not including Patchy the pirate and his stuttering henchmen. Was it possible the Bat had given up? NO, he refused to believe that. That man was to committed, to obsessed with justice. He would never let the police stop him. So where was he?

A women in a sleazy costume sobbed uncontrollably beside him. Joker grabbed her blond hair, twisting it in his fist forcing her to look at him, "Wanna hear a story?" he asked in a low voice.

* * *

"So ya sure," Harley said in a low voice now knelling beside Bruce, "I think I should tell Mistah J,"

Amidst the crowd of costumed guests she had caught sight of a man with a cell phone. He was wearing a bright red super hero costume, kind of a funny coincidence to her since she assumed he was calling for help.

"No, don't tell him," he whispered back, "The Batman has a scanner that will pick up that man's 911 call. It's a good thing for, um, Mister J,"

Harley nodded believing Bruce's every word. She watched the man finish the call unnoticed by the Joker or any other clowns. Then it occurred to her, if the call would lead Batman here she should tell Mr. J. He'd be so excited and proud of her for letting that tattle tail finish his phone call.

"I think I should let Mistah J know," she argued, "Look at im' over there. All sad and disappointed that Batsy ain't comin'," she said.

Bruce looked toward Joker. He was now straddling a victim, inches away from her frightened face with a blood knife prodding her inner cheek. He didn't seem to crushed. More like pissed.

Bruce shook his head, "NO don't-," Harley stopped him in mid-sentence.

"Hey Mistah J, that guy over there just called the police," she stood up and tattled, pointing to the man.

Joker's gaze snapped towards Harley, "Which guy?" he barked as he climbed off of the terrified girl and grabbed the fallen henchman's shot gun, "That one," he swung the gun towards a different man sitting in the direction that Harley was pointing to.

"No puddin', the one in the super hero costume,"

He casually shot both men anyway causing another chain reaction of shrill screams, "Did he manage to call before ya caught him?" he asked sucking on his scarred, bottom lip.

"Yes, yes he did," Harley smiled triumphantly.

"Why the hell are you smiling Har-ley," he gritted his teeth.

"Cuz Mistah J, now Batman will know we're holdin' these poor, innocent people hostage and he'll come,"

His grip tightened around the gun in his hands. He was going to shoot her, that's it, blow her pretty, little brains all over the room. No. No, she didn't deserve that. It was much to simple of a punishment.

Harley looked around the room, "I may look like a dumb blond but I ain't, nope, nothin' gets past Harley Quinn,"

Joker quickly advanced toward her. She seemed surprised by his hand roughly grabbing her around the throat, "Batman isn't going to come ya little whore. The police are, that's what happens when you call nine one fucking one," he threw her to the floor.

"But," she whined as he turned away.

"Shut up Harley," he yelled then looked down at her, "If I hear one more word out of that mouth of your's I'm gonna slice it open, " he explained in a calmer manner, though it was still enough to frighten Harley.

She nodded weakly and remained on the floor.

Joker chewed on his lip, his mind working rapidly on his next move. He had to be quick about it, the wails of police sirens was beginning to grow in the distance.

"Thiiis looks like the end of our uh performance-uh," he announced trying to save some dignity and leave the penthouse in a scary and theatrical manner, "Though I assure you I will be putting on many more shows in the near future," he waved his hands around as he backed towards the exit, "And uh don't try anything stupid, no one move till we're gone, blah, blah you know the drill," he kicked the door open and disappeared through it.

The henchmen quickly followed, there guns still aimed and ready to fire should anyone who dared to disobey the Joker and move. Harley reluctantly rose to her feet with tears in her eyes and scurried out amongst the other clowns.

She made her way to the van, now letting the tears stream freely down her painted cheeks. She pulled the van door open and rushed into the backseat with her Mr. J.

"I am so sorry," she squeaked.

He stared straight ahead glaring at nothing in particular. From his trench coat pocket he produced a hand gun, cocked the weapon and pressed it to Harley's exposed neck.

* * *


	16. Kiss and Make up

Harley Quinn held her hands tightly to keep them from shaking. She felt sick on her stomach and horribly anxious from riding the whole way home with the cold metal of Joker's gun on her neck. Her legs felt like jello when he shoved her out of the van and towards their hide out. She didn't know what to do. Would he shoot her? Surely not, they were in love, why would he do that to her? Even if she messed up at the party he would never do that. She meant to much to him. Didn't she?

She stumbled into their room, Joker kicked the door shut behind them with a loaded gun still pointed towards her. He didn't bother to lock it. No one would be coming in tonight. All of the henchmen knew what was going on and were relieved they were not the one's in trouble.

Harley sat on the edge of the bed staring at the floor. She couldn't look at him. She nervously fidgeted with her shaking hands and quickly glanced up at Mr. J, offering a quick smile. He just stared at her with that terrifing look, black eyes burning holes in her.

She swallowed hard, "I-I dunno what ta say Mistah J... I'm sorry,"

"Nooo you're not," he replied.

Harley finally got the courage to look at him for more than three seconds, "I am, I really am. I didn't know... Why are you so mad at me?"

Joker fired the gun, thankfully at the ceiling sending bits of dry wall to the floor, "Why am I so mad?" he roughly grabbed her chin forcing her to face him, "Ya think I shouldn't be? What makes you think your sooo special? You are re-plac-able Harley Quinn. Just like Mime and Spades and everybody else in this building right now," he leaned closer to her and placed the gun on the side of her head, "I could find another Harley Quinn tonight if I wanted to, it wouldn't be hard," he whispered.

Harley held back a sob, tears rushed down her face removing white face paint.

"Should I go find a new toy?" he asked softly cocking his head to one side.

She shook her head no.

Joker let go of her and stood up again, looking down at her, "Ya stiiill aren't so-rry," he dropped the gun.

"It's just that... m-maybe your not so much mad at me puddin' as you are mad th-that Batman didn't come," she looked up at him, "So let's just ya know kiss and make up?" she gave a nervous smile.

Big mistake.

Before she knew what was happening Joker was on top of her. He straddled her on the bed, his hands once again gripping her throat, "Kiss and make up? Hell Harley I didn't realize it was that simple, but apparently this relationship stuff is new to me. I sure am glad I'm fucking a shrink,"

"Mistah J," she choked, "What are ya doin'?" she had thought when he dropped his weapon she was safe.

"We're making up honey," he gave her a Cheshire cat smile.

* * *

The Gotham City Police arrived at Bruce Wayne's penthouse shortly the gang of clowns drove away. Ambulances were called for the Joker's victims, though none of them appeared to be alive.

Commissioner Gordon, frustrated that they had arrived to late was speaking with Bruce, "Could I ask you a few questions Mister Wayne?"

"Sure," he replied nonchalantly even though he was really quite eager to go.

"Can you tell me how many men were with the Joker," he took a notepad out of his jacket.

Bruce shrugged indifferently, "I didn't count them. Maybe seven or eight men, one woman,"

"A woman?" Gordon immediately remembered Arkham Asylums security footage of a women in a jester suit, "Could you possibly describe her?"

"She was in costume, had alot of face paint on. Um... she was a blond,"

The police commissioner recalled seeing pictures of Dr. Quinzel when the Gotham PD began investigating her disappearance. She was a blond. He distinctly remembered her fair hair and bright blue eyes.

"Can you think of any other details? For example eye color. It's very important,"

"Why?" Bruce asked doing a little investigating of his own, ever since Batman stopped working with Gordon he had to find other ways of gaining information.

He sighed, "I'm sure you've probably heard that Dr. Harleen Quinzel has been reported missing,"

"Who's Dr. Harleen Quinzel?"

The Batman in disguise acted as if he didn't know. But he did. He knew several things about the Joker's therapist. Upon finding out the young doctor had been assigned to the clown he began doing his research. Harleen Quinzel had blond hair, blue eyes, was 5'8, single, lived alone and had graduated college only three years prior to treating the Joker. He had been concerned about such a young and female doctor spending a session everyday with the Clown Prince of Crime, but he heard she was an extremely qualified doctor despite her lack of experience.

Gordon shook his head at Bruce Wayne's ignorance, "The Joker's former psyhciatrist,"

"Oh," Bruce nodded, "Uh this girl's eye's were... blue, I think,"

Commissioner Gordon nodded and wrote something down, "How did she act? Did she seem hurt or frightened?"

He shook his head, "No,"

* * *

Joker sat behind Harley in bed. He had his arms around her as he hungrily kissed down her neck.

Harley looked down at his hands wrapped around her waist, in one he held a knife, "Uuuh Mistah J," she began her voice shaking, "M-maybe ya right. I was really wrong back there... if ya want I'll just sleep on the couch tanight. I'll just go," she squirmed away.

"Ah ah ah Harley," he grabbed her wrist jerking her roughly back to him, "Don't chya know couples should nev-er go to bed aaangry,"

This time he held her tighter, wrapped his arms and legs around her securing her close to him. He bit her neck, she flinched but tried hard not to scream.

"Something wrong sweetheart?" he growled in her ear, "Usually you're just sooo eager to get fucked,"

With that he took the knife he was holding and used it to rip open her dress. She gasped feeling the blade cut her flesh somewhat. Joker pulled down the top of the dress, which was now ripped up the back. Then he let go of her and slid off the bed. Harley thought quickly, to quickly and acted in her first thought. Run. She attempted to escape towards the bedroom door but of course Mr. J caught her. He slammed her back onto the bed, knocking her against the head board. He swiftly removed his trench coat and threw it to the side along with his green vest and suspenders. Harley tried to sit up but he pushed her back again. Her head hit the wood bars of the head board with even more force.

Joker stabbed his knife into the fluffy skirt attached to Harley's dress. Thankfully for her, missing her legs underneath it. He drug the knife downwards ripping the fabric before tugging it off. After realizing he had not cut her legs he decided to correct his mistake. Mr. J made a straight cut across her thigh splashing her black and white tights with fresh, red blood.

Harley screamed unable to hold back anymore. Crying, she made one final attempt to get away. She kicked at him with one of her platform heels before rolling of the bed and onto the floor. But she had not managed to do much damage to the Joker, he was soon upon her again. He jerked her back to him by her arm and pulled of her curly wig. Long, black and red hair spilled out from underneath it.

Struggling against him Harley tried to free herself but it was no use. The Joker liked the challenge. She knew it. He knocked her down and climbed on top of her. With his knees pinning her arms down he tied her two-tone strands of hair to the head board. Harley began sobbing uncontrollably as he returned to the cut he had previously made. It was really bleeding now. Without taking his glaring eyes off of her he made another cut on the opposite leg. She screamed and cried louder but he didn't seem to care. He continued to watch all her emotions with cold, unchanging eyes.

For a few moments he simply sat back and watched them. She was angry, sad, scared, hurting and most of all disappointed. He could clearly tell, she was disappointed in him. She couldn't believe he was doing this to her. Joker could read her like a book. He knew exactly what she had in mind when she moved in. Harley thought they were going to live happily ever after, she thought she could change him. She thought he would never do anything to hurt her. Nothing serious at least. And now his little Harley Quinn was disappointed in him.

Joker began biting at her neck again. He randomly drew on her arm with his knife. Just small, shallow cuts here and there, enough to sting and bleed. He kissed across her neck to her bloodied arm, feeling the little knife wounds beneath his lips, tasting the metallic, bitter taste of blood. He drug his tongue slowly across her wounded arm before kissing her mouth. Forcing her to taste her own blood as his tongue plunged into inside.

Harley had given up, she lay there defeated. What more could she do? Cry, that's all. She was unable to move and there was no way Joker would stop now. She felt his knife dig painfully into her upper arm. She screamed into his mouth, her body continuing to shake with sobs.

Joker pulled away, "Shh sh sh," he stroked her face with the dull end of the knife, "Daddy's gonna make it aaall better," he said as he cut open her tights.

* * *

"It doesn't make any sense," Bruce said shaking his head.

He stared down at a newspaper article about the Joker's escape from Arkham Asylum. It included a few quotes from Harleen Quinzel as well as a photograph of the doctor. Bruce read it over and over again.

"Are you quite certain it was her, sir?" Alfred placed a cup of coffee on the end table beside him.

"Thanks," Bruce glanced up from the paper, "And yes, I'm pretty sure. She had a lot of make up on but you could still see the resemblance. And she called herself Harley Quinn,"

The butler thought for a moment, "Harleen Quinzel, Harley Quinn,"

"Exactly," he sipped the coffee, "I just don't understand. She didn't act like she was being held against her will. She seemed... happy,"

He recalled the way Harley had looked at the Joker and how eager she had been to impress him.

"You should have seen her Alfred," he began again, "She watched him with such admiration, such love. You could just see it on her face how much she cared about him. He even after he knocked her down," he looked at Alfred, "How could someone who spent everyday with that man possibly feel anything for him?"

"Maybe Master Wayne," Alfred replied, "That's exactly why she feels something for him,"

* * *

Harley laid in the dark breathing heavily. She had never hurt so badly. She could feel cold, sticky blood covering arms and legs. Joker snored lightly beside her. The night had been a blur. He cut her almost the entire time. Usually she enjoyed attention from Mr. J, not tonight.

Her hair remained in knots, connecting her to the headboard. But even without the restraints she couldn't move. She was so weak with blood loss and she could tell some of the cuts were still bleeding. She rubbed her eyes, still wet with tears. She had cried so much, she didn't think she could cry anymore if she wanted to.

_Why would he do this to me,_ she thought. She just began to pity him, he had no empathy. He must have had such an awful childhood. _Poor Mistah J_, she looked at him, his back towards her.

Harley tried to shift in bed. Her legs felt tingly, like they were asleep. In fact her whole body felt somewhat numb. A dizzy feeling began to overcome her. She blinked trying to keep her heavy eyelids open though her attempts were failed ones. Slowly she blacked out.

* * *

_I am a sick individual... but I really liked writing this chapter._

_More Bruce stuff and I added Alfred cuz he's pretty friggin' awesome. The whole "That's exactly why she feels something for him," line came to me in a vision... not really. I could just totally see Micheal Caine saying that._

_Anyway thanks im-batman for proof reading and thanks to everyone who's reading. Don't be shy, I like reviews (I promise I won't stalk you). Next chapter will be out (hopefully) soon._


	17. Nurse Joker

Harley Quinn slowly drifted into consciousness, her mind entangled in a strange dream. She couldn't place the subject of the dream as she woke and fell asleep before waking again. Everything seemed foggy, Mr. J was in it. Mr. J and blood, lots of it. She had never seen so much of it and yet she was not frightened. She wasn't having a nightmare. It felt like a common dream, like going to school with no clothes on or all your teeth falling out. Weird, yes. But not scary.

Harley could feel someone touching her. It felt strange and painful with a pulling sensation on her skin. Finally after fighting to stay awake she opened her eyes. The room was still slightly dim since the blinds were closed, as they usually were. Still a few small streams of sunlight made there way into the room, it was morning. She turned her head to find the source of the pain.

Joker sat in bed beside her. Instead of his usually mis-matched suit he wore a white and pink nurse dress, a surgical mask and Harley's blond wig.

"Mistah J?" she asked groggy and confused.

"Morning sleeping beauty. Feeling better?"

She nodded slightly, "What are ya doin'?"

He pulled of the mask, "Stitching you up sweetie," he laced some wiry thread through one of the cuts on her thigh, "Some of these were uh, deeper than I thought,"

"Okay," she said softly, unaffected by the oddness of the situation.

Harley felt her hair to see if it was still connected to the head board. It wasn't. Instead it was frizzy and cut in some places where Joker had untied it or cut it apart. A few of the knots themselves still clung to the head board. She groaned feeling the broken pieces of hair, she hoped Mr. J didn't make a habit of tieing her to the bed. At least not by her hair.

"Shh sh sh, almost done," he cooed.

She smiled at his attempts to comfort her. It was sweet, a strong contrast of the previous night. Something Harley was already beginning to block out as she slowly forgot Joker's harshness.

"How'd ya learn to do that?" she asked pointing to the stitches.

"Hm? Oh I don't know, can't remember... I just kinda know how," he shrugged, "It's a good thing to, in my uh, line of work,"

She watched him carefully suture her wounds, wondering how and where he had learned such a skill. She was not surprised that he didn't remember, there were many things the Joker could not recall about his past.

"Aaall done," Joker finally said clipping the end of the stitch with scissors.

He stood and put the needle, thread and scissors in the apron pocket of his nurse costume . Harley sat up slightly examining her cuts. A long cut on her upper arm had required stitches as well as two on her left thigh and one on her right. All the other wounds were apparently not as severe and were left alone.

She looked towards her "nurse", "Where did ya get that outfit?" she smiled.

"Why? Do ya like it?" he crawled across the bed mischievously.

"Uh huh," Harley Quinn giggled.

"I thought you would," he kissed her.

He climbed across her lap and continued kissing her lips, still sensitive and swollen from the night before. Harley winced at the pressure he put on her wounds which he had just finished stitching. Joker didn't seem to notice, his kisses traveled down her neck.

"Uh Mistah J," her voice shook.

"Mmm," he barely replied while he fumbled with her bra.

"I-uh ain't sure I'm feellin' up ta this,"

"Why not," he paused for a brief moment before sucking in her sore neck again.

"Well, ya know last night..." she trailed off not wanting to make Mr. J mad again.

"Ooooh," Joker stopped, "I get it. You're feelin' yucky cause a lot of your blood leaked out," he said in a perfectly innocent tone.

Harley Quinn gave a timid nod.

"Aw," he stoked her face, "I'll be riiight back,"

"Kay," she replied softly watching him leave the room.

She felt a little nervous. Though she did not believe Mr. J ever meant to hurt her she now knew he was a little unpredictable. Not only that but the clown was hard to read. He seemed in a good mood but Harley had no idea of knowing when that would change. What if she had made him mad just now? She shivered, she did not want another repeat of the previous night. Not ever again.

Just them Joker returned through the door, "Blood loss, been there, done that. Trust me," he licked his scars, "Best thing you can do is get some sugar in yoou," he said in a sing song voice as if fatal injuries were no big deal, he tossed her a can of soda, "Um don't open that just yet," he added after throwing it to her, "I gotta see another uh, patient. When you're done come down to the basement, I could use a little assistant-uh," he smacked his lips before turning and leaving again.

* * *

It took some time for Harley Quinn to feel somewhat better. The sugary soda had helped but she was still somewhat dizzy. But the clown girl was eager to get up and join Mr. J in the basement. She wondered what he was doing and what he meant by another patient.

Still a little shakey, she made her way to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. With nothing but her bra and panties on she could clearly see the damage done to her form the previous night. Purple bruises had began to on her neck and arms. Though Joker had stitched up some of the wounds they remained bloody. Dried blood held on to the cuts in a gross fashion. Blood seemed to paint her arms and legs along with Joker's bloody hand prints.

Harley decided to take a shower despite the pain that came with the hot water rushing into her many cuts. She carefully picked off the blood around her stitches and washed it out of her now matted, uneven hair. She tried not to think of what Joker had did. Of course she forgave him, she understood why he hurt her. He had been upset with her and since he simply couldn't comprehend that he was hurting her. Lack of empathy was very common in patients with abusive childhoods. Harley was sure it wouldn't happen again.

She got out of the shower, dried off and got dressed. She looked through her clothes in search of something that would cover her most of her wounds. Upon realizing she had brought absolutely no modest apparel with her to Mr. J's hideout she settled for a white tank top and a pair of red shorts.

Harley did her best to put her hair up in her signature pig-tails but her "new haircut" made it almost impossible. Instead she put only a a few strands into two pig-tails and let the rest of her hair down, it was close enough. Then she remembered her make up, she had almost forgot about it. The mime face paint was melting off her face from the shower. She grabbed three containers of red, black and white make-up that had been sitting on the bathroom sink and quickly reapplied it. This time she did her harlequin make up with the painted, black mask.

After taking one final look in the mirror she went in search of the basement, she'd find Joker there.

It occured to her that since she had moved in, she had searched almost everywhere in the building. Everywhere but the basement. She had peaked down the dark stair way and decided against further exploring that room.

Harley Quinn opened the basement door and slowly made her way down the staircase. It was creepy and smelled of mold like most basements. Harley didn't like the damp room but she could hear Joker's voice echoing at the bottom of the stares, she could not quite make out his words but and decided to go on. He wanted her to come down and she did not want to disappoint. Besides that Harley was glad for a chance to spend time with her puddin' while he was in such a good mood.

Finally she reached the floor and looked around. The basement was very large and very dark, it was so large it had been separated into a few smaller rooms. A light shown from the inside of one of the rooms, Harley assumed that's where Mr. J was. Folding her arms over her chest, shivering from the cold atmosphere of the basement she went towards the lighted room.

Sure enough there was her Clown Prince, still in his nurse costume, sitting on a metal cot in the middle of the room. A bare light bulb hung form the room's ceiling casting eerie shadows around the room as it swayed slightly back and forth.

"Hey puddin'" Joker waved at Harley cheerfully, "I decided not to start without yoooou," he hopped of the cot.

"Start what?" she walking in apprehensively.

The clown disappeared into one of the dark corners of the room and returned dragging a barely conscious body. It appeared to be a police officer, he was wearing a blue uniform. His hands and feet were tied and his eyes blind folded.

"Surgery," Joker grinned.

* * *

_This was going to be out sooner but due to fanfiction and their technical difficulties it wasn't, sorry. _

_Anyway, Heath got the Oscar. I'm sure everyone knows it by now since that was what Sunday. I am really glad he won, no one deserved it more. His take on the Joker was amazing. I still remember standing in the mall, staring at TDK movie poster (the blue one where he's writing "Why So Serious?") and saying "I must see this movie!" I was a bit of a Batman fan before, I'd watch the old cartoon when I'd see it was on. I knew all the characters, but Heath Ledger as the Joker just blew me away. There's something that fascinates me about seeing a cartoon character or a comic book character "come to life" and the Joker was easily the most amazing character to watch. It definitely would not have been the same movie had it not been for Heath Ledger and his AMAZING acting ability. Congratulations Heath. _

_Sooo I had to write Nurse Joker into this at some point. I (just like half the girl's on earth) loved that scene in TDK. And I thought it would be perfect for him to cross dress for this scene as well as the following one. It helped to add some light-heartiness to it all. It adds to the emotional thrill ride he's got Harley on._

_The idea of Joker doing "surgery" was inspired by Repo! the Genetic Opera. (Help I can't get Zytrate Anatomy out of my head) Repo! is a musical about the future and in that future people are getting plastic surgery/organ transplants all the time. So of course some people can't pay for their surgeries and when the can't a Repo man comes and repossesses that organ. So I've basically had lots of surgery and random butchering on my mind._


	18. Playing Doctor

"Surgery?" Harley repeated.

"Uh, yeah. That's what I just said," Joker replied.

With effort he got the man onto the cot. The police officer moved slightly going in and out of consciousness, unaware of what was going on. The clown lightly smacked his face a few times, "Damn it wake up," he groaned, "I wanted him to be awake for this,"

Harley approached the two in the center of the room, "Where did ya get im' Mistah J?"

"This morning I was out uh running some errands," he began poking the cop, "I was apparently going to fast and got caught sooo I pulled over, loaded my gun ya know the usual routine when one uh, exceeds the speed limit. But then I realized that shooting him would be no fun at all. I mean one bang and it'd be over. So I asked to myself, Joker? That's my name. Why am I killing random people? Of course I love chaos and all but I think I'm wasting time that could be spent fighting Batman. Buuut Batman is hardly ever around and whyyy is that-uh?" he began untieng the policeman's bonds and retieing them to the "operating table", "These guys, Gotham's Finest treat my Batsy like some kinda criminal. So when little boy blue here came to get my license and registration I knocked him out, tied him up and here he is," Joker said proudly.

Harley nodded, "What exactly are ya gonna do with im'?"

"Weeelll," he pushed a small table into the center of the room.

On the table were various knives and other sharp weapons that Harley was not sure what they were. All different shapes and sizes. Joker emptied the pockets of his nurse dress onto the table. The scissors, thread and needles he had used on Harley were added to the collection.

"It's a shame really, he's in critical condition," he said with fake concern, "Everything must go," with that he burst into a fit of laughter.

Harley Quinn began to giggle to though she was not exactly sure where Mr. J was going with this.

The police officer began too stir on the cot between them, "W-what's going on. Where am I?" he demanded to know in a confused voice.

"Hey there silly, sleepy head," Joker laughed, "I didn't think you'd ever wake up," he looked at Harley, "We should get star-ted, before the patient's condition worsens,"

"What the hell are you talking about?" the man exlaimed pulling against his restraints, "Where am I? Somebody answer me!"

"First things first," the clown began as he snapped a surgical mask onto his face, "I gotta shut you up. I can't have you breaking my concentration with all your stupid questions, now can I?"

He picked up the stitching supplies, casually humming a song. He positioned the needle on the still blind-folded police officers lip and forced it through a layer of skin. The man began to fight against the ropes and handcuffs holding him down, "What the hell?" he exclaimed.

"Calm down," Joker sighed irritated, "This will be sooo much easier if you keep you're mouth closed ya know," he pulled the tread through his lip and punched the needle in the man's top lip.

He gritted his teeth and groaned. He begrudgingly closed his lips, it was painful to open them anyway with one stitch connecting the skin. What was even worse he could not see what was going on. The police officer knew he was being held captive by the Joker, he caught sight of the clown just before he was knocked out. He could recognize that voice as well, not to mention his laugh. The man wondered if he would die, it was likely. He was now in the hands of a murdering, psychopath, what else could he expect? The question was how long before he finally died?

Joker pushed the needle in and out of the cop's mouth, wiping up blood with his fingers as he did and then using it to paint a smile on his surgical mask. Soon the man's mouth was closed tightly with stitches.

"There we go," he stepped back to admire his work, "Harley darling would you mind removing the patient's shirt," he said pulling on some rubber gloves.

"Sure thing Mistah J," she unbuttoned the police uniform and removed it as best she could since his arms were tied down.

She glanced at Mr. J unsure of what to do next.

"Hmm, I am gonna need that shirt later and I can't have it all bloody," he said thoughtfully.

"What do ya need it for puddin?"

"I'll uh, tell ya later," he uncuffed the "patient's" left arm and slid the shirt off.

He coperated until Joker freed his right arm. He shot up grabbing blindly at his attacker. Harley gasped and jumped away at the captive's sudden attempts to save himself. Mr. J was not surprised at all.

He rolled his eyes, "Coper-ation, not one of your strong suits is it?"

He picked up a large knife from the table and sunk it deep into the cop's bicep. Muffed screams of pain resonated from him but the stitches held in place. Joker jerked the button up police uniform out from underneath him and laid it aside for later. After tieing the policeman's arm back up he pulled the weapon out of his bleeding arm. The man winced as the blade slid out but did not scream. The pulling at his sutured lips was to painful.

Harley Quinn cautiously made her way back to her spot across from Mr. J. She watched their "patient" the entire time as if he would lash out again. He did not of course, he laid there breathing heavily out of his nose. Blood spurted and gushed from his wounded arm. She glanced at Joker. He examined the knife that was previously in the cop's upper arm. It must have been in pretty deep, red blood stained half of the large blade.

"Continue Harley," he waved his hand.

She nodded and picked up a pair of scissors on the table before carefully cutting his black under-shirt open. Once she finished she stepped back into place to watch.

Joker flipped the knife in his hand and without warning sent it crashing into the police man's midsection.

The man could not hold back and screamed, Harley noticed part of his top lip ripping where the stitches met his skin. She watched Joker, though the sight was sickening she could not look away. She didn't feel as disturbed as she knew she should. As disturbed as she would have been several months ago, before she met Joker. He drug the weapon down the cop's flesh making a large cut. The cop's pained crys dissipated leaving only a sickening ripping sound. Harley assumed he was dead now.

Joker continued to open the wound wider and cut indeterminately at his insides. The smell was horrible. Harley Quinn felt as though she would throw up, instead she covered her nose and continued to watch the gruesome display. Still she could not bring herself to giggle manically like Mr. J. He seemed to be enjoying himself and Harley liked to see him happy. She was not to disturbed at all by the fact that he found the situation funny, she simply decided he had a morbid sense of humor. Very morbid. It made her feel better to think that way, excuses for her boyfriend's behavior gave her hope that someday soon they'd be a normal couple, far far away from Gotham City and Batman.

Finally after what seemed like hours to Harley, Joker stepped back satisfied and drenched with blood. He checked the man's pulse, or lack thereof. He sighed, "Well the operation waaas... unsuccessful," he shrugged, "We lost him," he said before bursting into a fit of giggles.

Harley joined in nervously.

"Paint his face for me, will ya babe," he began after composing himself, "I gotta find someone to deliver his body to the police station," he handed her some face paint form his apron pockets.

She nodded and took the containers of make up.

Mr. J pulled of his mask, "And when you're done..." he stepped closer to her, "Meet me upstairs," he pulled her towards him, pressing her up against him in a hard, forceful kiss.

He could barely contain his laughter through the kiss. He was so pleased she had stayed in the basement the entire time. Clearly she didn't want to and yet she remained, simply wanting to be near him. Now she was about to paint the victim's face, it was hilarious. He pulled away, still giggling and headed upstairs.

She shivered all alone in the basement with a dead body. Her once bright, white tank top was now stained with fresh blood from Joker's equally bloody dress. Harley unscrewed the white container of paint and slowly smeared it on his cold face. Followed by black eyes and a bright, red smile. That was the worst to paint, she cringed as she ran her fingers over the stitches on his lips. After she finished with the face paint she looked once last time at the bloody exposed organs and hurried to find Mr. J.

* * *

_Sorry if I majorly disturbed anyone. But what do you expect, it's the Joker :D. __This is also pretty crucial to Harley's insanity. It's just another little push to madness. So it HAD to be done._

_And let it be known I have nothing against police men... Joker does._


	19. Laughing Gas

The blood on her shirt was beginning to feel sticky and cold. It clung to her skin uncomfortably as she waited patiently in Jonathan's apartment. He had created a few samples of laughing gas and he was discussing with Joker what he should do with them. Joker had told Harley to be quiet and look cute. She did her best.

"You'll need some test subjects. I'm not exactly sure how the gas works just yet," Jonathan explained.

"Oh don't worry Jonny, I've got that all taken care of," Joker replied.

He had changed back into a vest and blueish-purple collared shirt. Harley was a little disappointed, she thought the nurse outfit had been endearing.

"Really?" he was surprised the clown had thought that far ahead.

"Yep," he nodded, "We're gonna try it out at the Gotham City Police Station,"

Jonathan was unimpressed again, "That won't work at all," he sighed.

"Why not? It's my laughing gas I can do what I want with it," he shrugged.

"Yes, but you don't seem to understand Joker. I have no idea what effect this toxin will have on an individual,"

"Makes it even more fun," he smiled.

Jonathan and Joker would make a pretty deadly team, if it weren't for their extreme differences on planning things. Joker's no rules, just let things happen, anarchist attitude really bothered Jonathan. He was even a bit over the top for Scarecrow.

"Besides," Joker continued, "Any result is going to be bad for the victim sooo what does it matter. As long as they die and they laugh a little, I'll be happy,"

"But that's just it," he said exasperated, "I don't know what it will do. The may just die, no laughing. Or they'll laugh some and not die. They could be delirious, in pain, unconscious..."

"Blah, blah, blah, I get it. Honestly Jonny I can handle any of their reactions to this stuff,"

"Really. Okay. Well they are cops with guns, just what will you do if they get aggressive?" asked Jonathan.

Harley gasped in the background.

Joker smirked at her then at Jonathan, "Makes it more interesting doesn't it,"

He rolled his eyes in response, his fear of the clown was now being overwhelmed by his frustration, "Fine, do what you want with it but I have to be there so I can record the results,"

"Why?" Joker cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy.

"Obviously I'll need some information on the results so that I know how to perfect it. Even though it will mean risking our lives," he sighed, "When do we leave?"

"I don't know, I'll get back to ya on that,"

"Right cause God forbid you plan anything," Scarecrow mumbled out loud.

Whether Joker did not hear him or had simply ignored him Jonathan was glad, he had to be more careful. Now that he had been out of Arkham for a while, with no medication, he could feel himself slipping back into old habits. He glanced towards Harley who sat silently on the couch beside them. He eyed the stitches knotting in an out of her skin, exposed by her immodest clothing.

"Must have been some party last night," he said addressing her for the first time she came in.

"Whatdya mean Jonny?" she asked in a usual perky tone before gasping and covering her mouth, "I ain't supposed ta talk. I'm sorry Mistah J,"

"It's okay Harley-kins," Joker settled on the couch beside her, "You've been good. You can talk now,"

She smiled broadly in response to his praise and looked back at "Jonny", "What was I talkin' about?"

"The stitches," Jonathan Crane answered trying to ignore Joker who suddenly couldn't keep his hands off of Harley. Even though he had acted as though she didn't exist a moment ago.

He wondered if the clown felt at all threatened by him and had to subconsciously prove to Jonathan and himself that Harley was his. That or Joker was an attention whore and didn't like the fact that no one was talking to him. He decided it was the second one, he could see that from the Joker, definitely.

"Oh that's right, um these ain't from the party," she explained.

"Then where are they from?" he continued questioning knowing full well.

Joker. Why was she even acting as though she wanted to hide it? It was not so much that Jonathan cared about her safety and well-being, he just wanted to be right. To prove the obvious; the Joker was bad boyfriend material. Though he wasn't sure why he felt such contempt towards the clown right now. He guessed he was just that annoyed with him, after all his obnoxious behavior was becoming a bit to much. By now he was as close to Harley as he could get without sitting on her lap. One hand wrapped tightly around the former doctor's waist, the other caressing the cuts he'd made on her arm.

"Well uh, ya know," she laughed nervously, "Mistah J likes ta play rough,"

Mr. J kissed her on the cheek leaving a bright red lipstick stain. He smiled smugly at Jonathan, pleased by his girl's answer. He knew he had her now, hopelessly in love. So much so that she would never betray him. Harley didn't care how she was treated, just as long as she was with him.

"C'mon Harley, we'd better go," Joker finally said, taking her hand in his.

Her heart fluttered at the gentle gesture, "Buh bye Jonny," she waved as she and Mr. J left the apartment.

As they walked down the hall towards their own apartment they met an employee. The dark-haired henchman was a former Arkham inmate. One of the more mentally stable men of the group, but still he was out of an insane asylum. Joker was not quite sure what was wrong with him, occasional he saw him muttering to himself but nothing major. So he had trusted him to deliver the police officer's body.

"Ace the second," Joker greeted.

He looked up from the floor he had been intently staring at, "Hey boss,"

"Did our uh, little gift to the Gotham PD make it to its destination?"

"Yes sir," Ace (the second) nodded his head eagerly, "I put a bow and a card on him. Just like you said,"

After rewarding the henchman with a job well done, the couple continued and went into their room.

"Bet Gordon will be surprised ta see that on the doorstep," Harley said as she closed the door behind them.

"I know," Joker laughed, "I just wish I could see the look on his face,"

"Even if ya were there it be hard ta see puddin'. What with that mustache of his covering up most of his facial expressions," she wiggled her finger in front of her mouth, imitating Gordon's facial hair.

They both burst into a fit of laughter and collapsed on the couch. Harley giggled until her sides hurt, she layed her head on Mr. J's lap. He idoly ran a finger across her side and up the curve of her hips and back again.

"Sorry I didn't give you a turn playing doctor," he finally said.

"That's okay. I preferred ta watch puddin'," Harley replied, she didn't think she could have helped with the surgery anyway, even if her Mr. J wanted her to.

She still felt squeamish over what she had seen, yet it didn't bother her that Mr. J was the one performing the "operation".

"Really? I should have taken his blindfold off, would have been a better show," Joker sighed.

"Why's that?"

"Have you ever seeen what a person looks like just before they die?" he asked.

"Sure Mistah J," she had seen quite a few death's since she met the Joker.

"But were you reeeally looking. Hm? Cause ya see...," his tongue darted in and out of his mouth, subconsciously licking his scars, "It's one thing to see a person get killed... it's another to waatch someone die,"

Harley was confused now, she rolled onto her back to look up at him, "Whatdya mean by that?"

"It's a look in their eyes," he talked with his hands, "It's hard to ex-plain, buuut when someone realizes that in a moment they'll no longer exiiist... you can see it. You can see all the uh, the hope in them juuust go away," he explained.

"I've never noticed that," she responded solemnly.

Joker smiled, "I'm sure you'll get your chance," he lightly touched the stitches on her thighs, "Have you ever felt that way?"

"Like I was gonna die?"

"No, no, like you kneew you were gonna die," he corrected her.

"No," Harley said quietly, just above a whisper.

Joker nodded, "I'm sure you'll get your chance,"

* * *

_Lemme know if there's any grammar mistakes, my sis proof read while in an online class and doesn't know if she missed anything. I proof read to but... well... if you knew me you'd understand why there may still be mistakes. *thinks about how hot Johnny Depp is* That is any example of me trying to focus and thinking of something else entirely._

_I had said there was gonna be more Joker/Harley scenes in this chapter and I lied a little. I had planned on more but when I wrote that last sentence I was like woah, I gotta end the chapter on that sentence. I just love writing scenes like this one though. When Joker gets into these deep, morbid conversations about death and things like that. :D_

_I'm really excited about the way the Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow character is going. Expect some cool scenes with him in the near future!_

_Anyway this is random, but I found this funny Dark Knight video: http:// www. newgrounds .com/portal/view/468487 . (just delete the spaces fanfiction makes me put em' in) It's kinda weird but I have a weird sense of humor. I've watched it like everyday since I found it, it's crazy. Whoever can animate stuff like this is a freakin' genius._


	20. When the Girl's Still Breathing

**_Just so there's no confusion, there is some italized paragraphs in here. They are Joker reflecting on the previous events of the day. Don't be confused. :D_**

* * *

Harley let her mind wander at what he meant when he said she would get her chance. Working with him was quite dangerous, perhaps that's what he meant. Fighting with the mob, the police and the Batman came with risks. But Harley felt confident in her Mr. J that he would not let anything bad happen to her.

"I bet you've had your share of close calls, huh puddin'?" she said sympathetically, holding his hand.

"You could say that," he nodded.

Harley paused for a moment, "So... what was it like?"

"Depends which near death experience should I tell you about," he clicked his tongue.

She thought for a moment, "I dunno, how 'bout your most recent one,"

He licked his scars, "O-kay," he bit his lip in thought, "That would be with Bats. The night the S. W. A. T. team got a hold of me. I remember Batman and I in one of the best positions we'll probably ever be in," he giggled. "Anyway I was on top of him... at the top of a building and it was about midnight, the ferries were supposed to blow up before twelve o' clock-uh," he rolled his eyes, "Of course they didn't. Sooo I was gonna have to do it myself. I thought that maybe I could fit in a uh, liiit-tle story in for Batsy but that was a mistake. He distracted me and then threw me off the building. Now this experience waaas kinda, well... different from the rest," he quickly licked his mouth, "See, as I was falling head-first towards the street... I wasn't thinking much about death. Sure it uh, crossed my mind that in a matter of seconds I would be splattered on the asphalt but I didn't really care," Joker cocked his head to one side, "Why? Because I thought I had won. Batman was going to break his one rule and kill me. Even if I was going to be dead, for those few moments I was free falling I could feel like I uh, succeeded. I proved that everyone's a hypocrite. Even Gotham's Dark Knight-uh," he explained emphasizing the "t", "And did I ever laugh... but," Mr. J sighed dramatically, "Ob-vious-ly Bats caught me and drug me back up aaaand you basically know how the rest of the story goes,"

Harley nodded, taking the story in, "You said that was different from the rest... how do you usually feel?"

Joker smirked, "Ya know how they always say it's like a tunnel. And you, ya know, uh, go towards the light,"

"Yeah,"

"It's not like that at all," he lowered his voice.

In response the clown-girl simply gave him a quiet nod. She rolled back onto her side and stared forward, her attention shifting to examine the room. It was fairly small, wallpaper peeled of the walls which may have had a few blood stains on them. There were definitely remains of blood on the carpet. A recliner and a coffee table were among the the couch they sat on, all of them old and worn looking.

She ran a finger over the brown, plaid fabric of the couch.

"I don't think I've ever been in the living room ya know," she said noticing she had never sat on the ugly couch as long as she'd lived with Joker, "This couch is a gross color," she wrinkled up her nose.

"Whatdya know, we haven't. I guess we're always in the bed-room," he ran his fingers through her messy hair, "Speeeaking of which, are you uh, feeling bet-ter,"

Harley smiled, "Yeah," she said, despite feeling quite shaky still.

"Do ya wanna break in the uh, gross colored couch?"

She giggled, "Yeah," she sat up.

The two didn't waste any time. Harley immediately climbed on his lap and began kissing him hungrily, her fingers tangled in his messy, chartreuse curls.

Joker was pleased that she had waited, after all it seemed as though she wanted this the entire time by the way she was kissing. It was frantic and rough, he liked that. He liked it almost as much as he liked her submission. Maybe it was what she had seen in the basement, he was glad he asked her to come down with him. That's what he had been hoping to accomplish more than anything with that little performance, fear. And of course he knew such display could only push a sweet, innocent girl like Harley closer to the edge. It was only a matter of time before she fell of completely.

He slid his hands down her body and firmly gripped her bottom beneath her tight shorts. She kissing and licking at his scars before pulling off his vest and loosening his tie. Then she quickly began ripping open the buttons trailing down his shirt.

_Truth be told, Joker knew he wanted this to. Just as much as Harley did. He had found her unusually hard to resist today and he was not sure why. He had woken up this morning long before she did and that's when it started. He watched her for a good twenty minutes before questioning himself as to why he was doing that. She wasn't doing anything, he just watched her sleep. It confused him why he was so aroused by it. He considered the possibility that his overwhelming lust was coming from the fact that she was barely clothed. But Harley usually look like that. He had paced around the room, trying not to think about the growing discomfort in his pants and attempting to distract himself from Harley Quinn. It wasn't working. He thought about waking her up but judging by the cuts he'd made, at the time, thick with drying blood, he doubted that would be successful. So he went out to run some "errands"._

Joker decided she dominated long enough. He pushed back onto the couch and straddled her, kissing her painted mouth and pushing his tounge inside. Harley didn't seem to mind, she wrapped her legs tightly around him, beginning to involuntarily buck against him.

_But what errands does the Joker have that he could not simply send a lackey to do for him. There was nothing he needed to do in reality. He just drove, pissed off, confused with himself and going really, really fast. He mumbled to himself as he sped down the road in the beat up van, music blasting inside. He had no remorse for the cop who pulled him over. Just slammed the officers head into the car, tied him up and shoved him in the backseat. He'd await worse when he got back to the apartment building._

Harley worked at undoing Joker's suspenders, he tugged off her shorts. He ran his hands a up and down her wounded thighs, he loved the way the healing flesh felt. It was so much better than that boring, smooth skin she used to have. Mr. J positioned himself before Harley and pushed one of her legs towards her. Holding it up in the air, the clown girl gasped with pleasure as he licked slowly up her leg.

_He drug the unconscious cop into the hideout and dropped him in front of Chuckle's door and slammed on it yelling orders to his henchmen. He had no time to take that K-Oed son of a bitch to the basement, no, he had more important matters to attend to._

The bumpy and stitched flesh felt good beneath his tongue, to good. The Joker hastily undid his pants and pulled them down around his knees. Breathing heavily, Harley ripped off her panties and tossed them behind her giving Joker a lopsided grin. He licked his lips before diving onto her again, thrusting inside. She tossed her head back and screamed, clawing at the back of his shirt that was now half-way off.

_Who did that little bitch think she was? First she fucked up at Wayne's party now this? Sure she was not conscious at the moment but she still knew what she was doing. Laying there all bloody, whimpering softly in her sleep with that pouty expression on her face. Damn it. She knew what she was doing. Even in her sleep she was trying to entice him, but what mad him madder was that it had worked. He crashed through the door of the apartment, his rage building the closer he stepped towards the bedroom. He hadn't decided what he was going to do with her yet, he was finding it immpossible to think of what to do with the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. All he knew is it was going to end today. And it would be bloody. He pulled a large hunting knife out of his coat, tightly gripping it he kicked open the bedroom door. There she was Harley Quinn, still asleep, just as he'd left her._

Joker sucked and bit at her neck, leaving some more decoration across her skin. He couldn't help but moan.

_The clown stopped in the doorway, once again watching the sleeping girl in bed. The anger subsided, slowly but surely fading away. He dropped the knife, letting it fall to the floor. He stared at her a moment then decided he should patch up those cuts. And that's how she found him. Sewing her up in drag. He didn't know why he chose that over brutally murdering her, he didn't want to think about it. He just told himself it was the fact that he acted on impulse alone and at that second he wanted sex. And sex is always better when the girl's still breathing... _

She could barely catch her breath when they finally stopped. Joker sat up and stared at her for a long time. Harley wasn't sure what she should say, unable to read the expression on his painted face. He furrowed his brow in confusion, the corners of his mouth twitching involuntarily as his eyes darted all over her face. Never resting on her own. Then he got up, pulled on his pants and stormed off with out a word.

Harley Quinn just layed there on the hideous couch. A few of her knife wounds had began bleeding again. She felt horrible and weak. It felt like a weight upon her, forbidding her to sit up, much less walk away. Her last actions were probably a mistake, she knew she didn't feel well enough to do that yet. But she couldn't disappoint Mr. J again. Besides she to enjoyed it will it lasted.

Feeling an overwhelming drowsiness come over her she decided to take a nap. She let the images of the living room fade to black as she pondered the look on her clown prince's face before he left. What was he thinking about? Had she done something wrong? It wasn't much time before Harley fell asleep again.

* * *

_Don't be alarmed, this still isn't going to be a Joker falls in love with a girl, sees he's so wrong and becomes normal, no, no. Just keep reading in a little while it shall make sense._

_I really wanted to describe the last Joker scene of TDK somewhere in this fic. I could never pic a favorite but its definitely one of my favs. I love the crazy laughter not only cause I find it oddly sexy but it is really a crucial scene for Mr. J . I think its amazing to watch, even though he was about to die he was happy because he thought he was going to win. I dunno maybe I'm weird but I love that. It really sets the character._

_Last but not least I wanted to let everyone know that I posted a Joker/Harley pic on my deviantart page. I guess you could say it is from this fic. Its not any scene in particular but its my version of Harley. And not just in hair and clothes and stuff but in the clear puppydog-like adoration towards her Mr.J . So check it out (you'll wanna full view or download it) here's the link: http:// user-name-here .deviantart .com /art/Joker-and-Harley-115086080 . If you have a deviant account I'd REALLY appreciate your comments, I'd like to know your opinions because it is my first digital pic. Thank YOU!_


	21. Disguises

He rubbed his eyes and stretched, sore from last night. He was finding it increasingly hard to fall asleep. Jonathan Crane never slept a lot, usually five or six hours a night. He had to much to think about. But after Batman forced a dose of his own toxin into his system, he slept even less. At least at Arkham Asylum he had medication to help him sleep and control the other side effects that came from the fear toxin. He had thought about telling Joker, he thought that possibly the clown would allow him to steal some meds from Arkham or at least send a few henchmen to retrieve the pills. But he didn't, obviously. He didn't like talking to the Joker, discussing the laughing gas for shot periods of time was bad enough.

After forcing his eyes to stay opened he stood up and looked at the clock.

"Ten o'clock," he mumbled, squinting at the digital clock on the microwave, "Damn it,"

Of course he no longer needed to worry about things such as oversleeping. After all, it was not as if he had any job to go to. It still bothered him though. He had always prided himself on his discipline. He had trained himself to wake up faithfully at six every morning. He sighed, just one more thing he was no longer in control of. He hated losing control.

Just then something caught his eye, a figure standing outside his window. He assumed it was possible that someone was simply standing outside the apartment building. After all he was on the first floor. But still, there was something strange about the dark figure facing his window. He couldn't seem to make out a face, it was simply dark, black and unmoving. Could it be Batman? No, not in broad daylight. It was obvious the man had some issues but he wasn't stupid. He would never take such a risk. Without the cover of darkness a giant bat is easily recognized.

Jonathan stepped towards the window with caution, in case it was really the Bat. But even when he stood directly before the window he could not see a face. No features at all, just a figure somewhat like a shadow. Slowly and carefully he unlocked the window. The figure didn't move. He let his fingers linger over the locks, this was a stupid idea. He didn't know what he was thinking. What if the person on the other side was dangerous, then what would he do? Jonathan slid his hands to the bottom of the pane of glass preparing to push it upwards. He had to do it, unfortunately he had an idea of what the figure really was. His heart began to pound. Quickly he thrust the window opened, preparing himself to slam it shut once again. But as he looked through the torn screen that lie behind the glass he became frustrated. No one was there.

"No, no," he groaned and closed the window before slumping against the wall.

He was hallucinating, another side effect of fear toxin. If the victim received a large and concentrated enough dose (which he did) they can experience the same hallucinations for the rest of there life. Though not on as great a scale as when a victim experiences the toxin for the first time but still quite frightening. Jonathan had realized this for himself in Arkham. Out of morbid curiosity he decided to see what would happen if started "cheeking" his medications. The hallucinations came on blurry and short at first, until they turned into full-blown living nightmares. Ever since that he took his pills.

But here in clown hell they were not available. Great.

At that moment Harley flung opened the door and bounced into the room, "Hi Jonny!" she exclaimed cheerfully, "How are you today,"

"Wonderful," he said sarcastically, not caring to explain himself.

She looked confused at him, "Why are ya sittin' over there on the floor?"

He sighed, "No reason, are you feeling better Harley?"

"Yes sir, nevah been bettah,"

"Good," Jonathan responded flatly before standing up, "You had better make sure you take care of those stitches. You do not want an infection and with Joker's knives I'm sure you're at risk for one,"

"No Jonny Mistah J's knives are clean,"

Jonathan rolled his eyes. He had a hard time believing that.

"But it's good ta know ya care," before he could react Harley trapped him in a tight hug.

Reluctantly, he embraced her in return.

"We should do somthin' taday Jonny," she finally let go of him.

"Like what?" he glanced out the window again.

"I dunno," she shrugged, "We could go shopping. I asked Mistah J earlier this mornin' he said I could if I wanted to,"

Jonathan scoffed, "Harley did it ever occur to you that we are both wanted criminals. Don't you think people will panic and call the police if we're wandering around the city in daylight,"

She giggled, "Ya so funny Jonny. I know that. That's why we gonna get disguises. Duh,"

"And dare I ask what kind of disguises?"

* * *

"Ta-dah!" she exclaimed opening the door and skipping into a vacant apartment.

It was just as messy as the other apartments in the building, if not more. It had was filled with the same ugly colored interior aside from a few pillows and lamps the tenant had owned. Instead they were pink. Harley led Jonathan into a cluttered bedroom featuring more sparkly, pink furnishings with the addition of a few leopard print ones. At the end was a closet stuffed full of clothes. Jonathan wondered how anyone had the money for so much clothing and not enough to rent a decent apartment in a better part of Gotham.

Harley began pulling hangers of gaudy, bright colored and animal print clothing.

"Aren't these great?" she asked Jonathan, "I found em' this morning. There's wigs somewhere in here to," she turned and began rummaging through the closet again.

He picked up a short, pink dress covered in sequins, "I suppose they'll disguise you well enough but what will I wear?"

She stopped tossing boxes of wigs out of the closet for a moment and looked at him, confused, "Whatdya mean Jonny, all the costumes are there in front of you. Pick whatchya want,"

Then it occurred to him exactly what Harley Quinn's plan entailed. He dropped the skimpy pink outfit on the floor, "No, most certainly not. I am not cross-dressing, especially not in public,"

"It's okay Jonny, if people don't know ya they won't know the difference," she smiled and stood up.

"Yes they will, someone will be able to tell," he protested.

"No," she picked up the pink dress and held it under Jonathan's chin imagining how it would look on him, "A little make up and nobody will know you're a man. No offense but I think you'll be very convincing,"

"Thanks," he replied sarcastically,"But I'm afraid I won't be going with you today," he turned to go.

"Jonny, wait, no, ya gotta come with me. Jonn-eey," he heard her whine as he left the bedroom heading for the front door.

How could she possibly think he would agree to such a ludicrous plan? What was Harley thinking? There was no way (former) Dr. Jonathan Crane was going anywhere in drag. It was bad enough what he was wearing on a daily basis here. An orange Arkham jumpsuit and a couple pairs of jeans and tee shirts Spades let him borrow. The jumpsuit was just plain ugly and Spade's clothes were way to big, which according to the henchmen, they were supposed to look like that.

Jonathan had enough of this, but most of all Scarecrow's patience was wearing thin. Suddenly a crow flew across the room, just before he reached the door. Sure it was just a crow, not very scary. But he hated birds. Besides there wasn't supposed to be a crow inside an apartment. He watched it carefully with widened eyes and trembling hands. His mind raced faster than his heart was now beating desperately trying to tell him it was nothing to be afraid of, that it was a mere hallucination. It failed to convince him.

The crow swooped at him before quickly disappearing. But it had not given up, it appeared before him once again, this time with a blood curdling "caw". It swooped at him once again threatening to peck out his eyes in that black, opened beak. He swatted at it but didn't manage to frighten the imaginary bird. It dipped in and out of his vision for a moment, disappearing and reappearing. Eventually he ran, he quickly made his way back towards the bedroom with Harley and slammed the door.

"Are you okay?" she asked taking notice to his heavy panting.

He nodded.

"Did ya change your mind or somthin'?"

He thought for a moment, he would hate to spend the day alone in a run-down apartment. Doomed to battle off what ever creature his mind involuntarily conjured up. He would probably end up tearing himself to pieces in fear if left unattended. That or wear a dress.

He wiped a cold sweat that was forming on his brow away and then reluctantly nodded a yes to Harley.

* * *

_Kind of a weird chapter I know, but I was talking (er typing) to MK08 and was inspired by breakfast on pluto and the fact that cillian murphy makes an attractive woman. So I couldn't help myself. Plus it'll be kinda funny in the following chapters._


	22. Shopping

_**I've had this typed up for almost a week now and I just kept going back and forth on whether or not I should post it. Everytime I do funny stuff I feel like a douche. Disturbing and scary is waaaay easier. So if this is not at all humorous and just plain dumb, I'm sorry.**_

* * *

Joker rolled over in bed, smearing significant amounts of make up off of his face and onto his pillow. He tried to find a comfortable spot to go back to sleep but it was to late, he was already awake.

"Shit," he swore.

The problem with staying up for days at a time was that it did eventually catch up to him. And when it did it was not fun. Exhaustion pain didn't even begin to cover it. He hadn't, managed to sleep much last night, even though he wanted to. The Joker had to much to think about, which was not at all uncommon for him, but this time was different. He was confused.

It was Harley's fault. He completely blamed her. No one had ever made him feel so many different emotions at once, at least not anyone he could remember. She could make him angry enough to wring her little neck and then all the sudden unable to because of uncontrollable lust. The more time he spent with Harley the less he was in control of things in his black and white world. She blurred everything into confused colors. He hated her for it and at the same time wanted her more than ever. It didn't make any sense, even to the Joker.

"Harley," he moaned.

He opened his eyes to look at her side of the bed when she didn't respond. Of course she was not there.

"Hey Harley," he yelled expecting her to come rushing into the room, she didn't.

He remembered Harley and some other girl coming into his room earlier and saying something about grocery shopping. He was half asleep and hadn't really paid attention. That's where she probably was, at the grocery store or with Jonny.

Joker didn't know why Harley spent so much time with Jonathan. He seemed kind of boring to the clown and why would Harley hang out with a former shrink turned nut job when she could hang out with Joker? It made him a little bit jealous. Of course he knew Harley wasn't fooling around with Jonathan, no way, she was far to loyal. And besides the Joker would never feel sexually threatened by Jonathan Crane. It just occurred to him that he was slowly losing Harley Quinn's undivided attention, he didn't like that. At that moment Harley should have been in bed beside him, all excited that he woke up and asking him stupid questions. She wasn't.

He got out of bed and sleepily made his way to the living room to see if Harley was there and just hadn't heard him. After confirming she was not around he went back to the bedroom and turned on the television. It immediately came on to the Gotham City news. Joker hoped to see a report on the police officer he had murdered. He sat on the edge of the bed cross-legged, eager to see what they said about him.

He loved to watch himself on the news. The doctors at Arkham said it was because he was constantly in need of attention. They were probably right, but he saw the news stories featuring The Joker as accomplishments. And thinking of all the citizens across Gotham, scared shitless, watching the same report was even better.

But so far the news station had only reported on non-interesting stories that had nothing to do with dead cops. And Joker was quickly becoming frustrated. A butchered police officer laying on the stairs of the Gotham Police Department had certainly seemed news worthy to him. Probably big enough to get Batman's attention. Why wasn't anyone reporting on it? Did they think if no one paid attention to his "pranks" that he would simply stop? Like he was a five year old boy? He could see Commissioner Gordon coming to that conclusion or maybe that idiot mayor. Joker began stabbing a pocket knife in and out of the mattress as he watched the news, thinking about why they weren't reporting on him.

With a growl he tossed the small knife across the room. He had to find someway to express his pent up anger.

He stormed out the door then stopped, "Damn it," he said exasperated, "Harley isn't here,"

* * *

Harley laughed when she glanced towards Jonathan, "You okay Jonny,"

"Yes, I'm fine," he stared straight ahead.

Harley could not decide which grocery store to go into. As if it was an important decision and besides if she was good at making choices neither one of them would be in this van, going shopping, in drag. Or at least he was in drag. Harley had insisted that he looked adorable in his clingy turquoise dress with matching heels, silver metallic leggings and to complete the look; a long fur coat to cover the fact that he was not a women. It was the most humiliation he had ever experienced, and that was saying a lot for a scarecrow themed criminal, who was tasered in the face by a girl during his villainous speech.

He sighed at how pathetic his life had become.

"This'll be fun. I promise you'll have a good time with me," she patted his shoulder, "Ooh what kinda fur is this," she petted it some more.

"Feels like teddy bear. Can you please concentrate on the road Harley, I really don't wanna die dressed like this," Jonathan said.

Harley was not the best driver to begin with. He wondered if she had always drove like a maniac or if that came with losing her sanity. It didn't help that Jonny's lack of medication was continuing to give him hell. The only thing worse than being in a car with a reckless driver was watching the world outside morph into disturbing images as they sped by.

"Well I think ya look great. You can totally pull of the platinum blonde look," she said refering to his Marilyn Monroe like wig.

She glanced at him when he didn't respond, "Are ya sure you're okay? I mean, I know you're nervous but ya white as a sheet Jonny,"

He nodded gripping the armrests on his seats with sweaty palms.

"Ah here we go," Harley finally said pulling into a parking lot, "We'll go here,"

Jonathan looked at the grocery store at the end of the parking lot. It was huge. Harley was probably trying to find the biggest one in Gotham to show him off in. And if not him, herself for sure. She wore a tight leopard print skirt with a hot pink top. Harley's black and red hair was contained in a long blond wig and her usually clown make up was replaced with brightly colored eye shadows and lipstick. She was definitely disguised well, she did not look like Harley Quinn at all. Neither did she look like Harleen Quinzel.

She applied another coat of bright pink lipstick while she parked, "Ready ta go," she smiled at Jonathan stuffing the keys into a sequin covered purse.

"As I'll ever be," he sighed getting out of the car.

He immediately realized how much he hated heels, especially on the black topped parking lot. Harley linked her arm in his and headed inside.

She began to march past the carts and into the automatic doors, "Harley," Jonathan called.

"Yeah," she spun around dramatically.

"Don't we need a cart?"

"Hmmm. I don't think so," she replied.

Jonathan was confused, "You are planning on buying things aren't you. I mean, this whole trip wasn't to torture me was it. Or some sick mind game the Joker is playing... is it?" he asked.

An old lady stared at him as she walked out of the store.

"Why would I wanna torture you Jonny?" Harley asked looking genuinely hurt that he would suggest something like that.

"I guess you wouldn't. Um sorry. I'll get a cart just in case. Okay,"

"Okay," she said back to her bubbly, happy self shortly after Jonathan's apology.

She tossed her purse into the shopping cart and headed for the produce section.

"So what are we getting?" Jonathan asked.

"I dunno. I've just been noticin' how our Mistah J and I's apartment has like nothin' in it. And I'm gettin' kinda sick of P, B and J," she turned around and began to walk backwards, "How about you?"

He nodded a response and began looking around the store. He wondered when the next hallucination would start, he hoped if he kept his mind off it he could avoid them. At least for the time being, if he freaked out in public he would be hauled off to Arkham before he knew what was going on. That wouldn't be so bad if Harley wasn't with him. She would be Arkham bound as well.

Just then she startled Jonathan out of his thoughts by jumping onto the front end of the cart.

"You aren't allowed to do that you know," he said to the woman riding on the cart, not even thinking about the fact that they were both wanted criminals.

"I know," she shrugged.

Harley Quinn jumped off to grab a bag of apples before climbing back on to the cart. She faced Jonathan this time.

"Let's go to the next isle Jonny," she suggested.

"If you keep calling me Jonny someone is going to wonder why you're calling a "girl" that,"

"You're very negative aren't chya. And I'll say Jonny as much as I want because it's no one else's business," she retorted.

Maybe he was being a little negative, but with good reason. He was surprised when the two made it nearly the entire way through the store unnoticed. Well, not quite, people did do a lot of staring but it wasn't because of the criminally insane grocery shopping. He could not determine if the attention was on his cross-dressing or Harley's lack of clothing. Which he had just realized while she was bending over the cart rearranging a few items. And as much as he didn't want to, he could not help but stare. Great, as if he didn't feel awkward enough.

Harley positioned herself back on the edge of the cart and looked at Jonathan, "Are you staring at me?"

"No," he lied shaking his head.

Harley laughed, "Yeah ya were don't lie ta me. I saw ya lookin' at the girls,"

Jonathan felt his face grow hot, "I was not,"

A little boy standing in the frozen food isle near them became very confused as he watched the two.

"I could see where ya were lookin' Jonny. Oh but don't be embarrassed. It just means my disguise is working since guy's obviously ain't lookin' at my face," she burst into a fit of giggles, "Ya know it's kinda cute, you look all nervous and sweaty,"

He sighed, "Are we almost done here?"

"Yeah, we can go check out," she hopped off the cart and walked beside Jonathan, "Am I really makin' ya that nervous. Wow, I didn't know I could do that... unless all girls make ya nervous. Do they? Have you ever been out with a girl Jonny?" she rambled.

"Of course," he replied staring straight ahead now.

"Really. Well judgin' by your reaction ya ta me ya didn't get to far with anyone. Am I right?" she questioned.

"We shouldn't talk about this here,"

Harley gasped, "Jonathan Crane no way!"

"Okay people are seriously going to here you," he was getting frustrated now, but at least the horrible embarrassment was keeping his nightmarish hallucinations at bay.

"Sorry," she whispered, "You're kind of adorable, being all unexperienced," she playfully shoved him, as if he did not have enough difficultly walking correctly in heels.

"I never said that. Just stop talking," Jonathan didn't like how anxious Harley was making him, he couldn't discern where these feelings where coming from. He really was losing it.

"Don't be embarrassed. I know how it feels, well until I met Mistah J," she giggled, they walked up to the check out lane, "Do ya wanna touch em?"

After the intial shock of that statment Jonathan managed a startled and confused, "What the hell?"

He glanced nervously at the cashier, a young, bored-looking woman. Thankfully she seemed unmoved by Harley's "gracious" offer. For now at least, she noticed right away when Harley stuck out her chest and said, "It's okay, Mistah J ain't gonna mind, if that's what you're worried about. You, me and Mistah J are friends and friends do things for each other,"

Jonathan started handing groceries toward the cashier, "No Harley. We're in public what don't you understand," he whispered loudly to her.

"Kay so when we get home?" she offered.

"No, no, no. You are very attractive Harley but I do not want to touch your breasts," he said practically yelling.

_Ha, nice going dumbass you just attracted all the attention in the store,_Scarecrow added. As if the situation wasn't bad enough the Scarecrow had to give his input. But it was true, every one around them was staring.

Jonathan sighed, "I'll go wait in the car," he mumbled.

* * *

_Well there ya go. Kinda made it up as I went along. I really wanted to do some light Harley/Jonathan since people rarely do anything with that pairing. But I saw it as being very awkward and Jonathan being kinda shy even though he's usually pretentious. And as for Harley... yeah, she's pretty comfortable with herself._

_Joker was so much easier. I know I've probably said this before but it's kind of a pet peeve of mine and I want everyone to know that my fic isn't going this way; the Joker is not in love. However he's close to it. I think Harley is bringing out a little humanity in him, just a little. Enough to make him really confused and pissed with himself. Obviously Harley see things in him that no one else dose and I think that would have some effect on him no matter how homicidal and cold he can be._

_I hope everyone liked it despite the lateness and the randomness of this chapter and of the previous chapter. Thanks to everyone who has faithfully reviewed so far, some of these chapters I write and think damn this sucks and then you guys make me feel better about it. Thank you so much. I'll try to get chapter 23 out soon since I actually know what I'm gonna do in it. :D Happy late St. Patrick's day... I think it was yesterday._


	23. Love?

Harley skipped into their apartment with hand fulls of grocery bags, "We're home Mistah J," she called happily.

Jonathan sat down the bag he carried in the kitchen, "Do you need any help putting things away?" he offered.

"No, I got it. You've been so much help already. Sorry I upset you back there," she said placing a few of the newly purchased items into the fridge.

"You did not upset me," protested Jonathan, "I just didn't want to get caught. That's all,"

Harley chuckled and shook her head, "Sorry I don't believe ya Jonny. Ya seemed pret-ty upset ta me," she sat on the counter top putting groceries into the cabinets.

"I wasn't," he sighed, " Anyway, I had better go before someone sees me like this,"

"Aw that's no fun," she hopped off and gave him a squeeze,"Love ya," she said in a cheery sing-song voice.

He felt his face grow warm again. He hated that feeling. His body seemed to betray him right when he was trying hardest to control it. Jonathan carefully slid his arms upward to hug her back. The fact that Joker was probably lurking in the apartment some where crossed his mind. He wondered if the situation would make him mad or if he really didn't care like Harley had said. Jonathan pulled away just in case the clown was the jealous type and stumbled on his high heels out the door.

Harley laughed at his clumsy exit and decided to check on Mr. J. If he was there, after all, he had not responded to her arrival.

"Oh puddin," she called again heading toward the bedroom, "Your Harley Quinn is home,"

She placed her ear against the door. She could hear a voice inside, but it wasn't Joker's. Harley assumed it must have been the television since they were discussing someone named Dr. Strange, saying he was going to take the late Dr. Leeland's place as head of Arkham Asylum.

Harley opened the door a crack and peaked into the room. All the blinds were drawn in the room, closing out most of the light. The glow of the television cast a blueish color across the walls and bed. Which appeared to be rather disheveled. Harley opened the door wider letting light spill in. She soon found that disheveled was a bit of an understatement. The mattress was littered with holes and splashed with fresh spots of red blood. The walls were equally messy. Joker had decorated one with bloody hand prints and made long cuts in the decaying drywall of the apartment.

Harley stepped inside and looked around. She approached the wall to examine the painting Joker had made. Slowly running a finger down one of the hand prints she found it to be still somewhat wet, leaving a red stain across her skin. Then she noticed something odd about the prints. Their size, they were small. To small to belong to Mr. J.

She glanced around the room and saw an outline of line shining out of the bathroom, which was joined onto the dark room she stood in.

"Mistah J," she said quietly, feeling a little bit frightened.

Slowly she grasped the knob and turned it pushing open the bathroom door. There was more blood inside, on the walls, on the floor and the shower curtain. Harley stepped in the room for a closer look. Something about the stained shower curtain had attracted her attention. Upon approaching it she did find a faint shape of a person through its thin material. So with morbid curiosity, Harley Quinn pulled back the curtain.

The silhouette belonged to a brunette woman, maybe in her late twenties. She lay in the bathtub with her head leaning on the tub's rim, her arms wrapped around herself as if she had either been trying to stop some bleeding or she was covering herself. Harley could not discern if the girl was still living since a puddle of blood had formed beneath her. The dark, red liquid stained her skin, it seeped from several deep cuts across her body and what appeared to be a bullet hole in her thigh.

Harley Quinn stood still, unmoving, unfeeling. She did not scream or run away, instead she just watched with a strange fascination, unsure of what to think. After a few moments she bent down to her knees, closer to the Joker's most recent victim. Slowly Harley reached a shaky hand toward the woman's neck, curious to see if there was still a pulse. Her bloodstained flesh was icy cold beneath her fingertips, she quickly withdrew them as if any moment she'd awake. Harley knew she wasn't going to though, by now she was pretty sure the body before her was a dead one. She gently touched again, she had never really touched a dead body. At least not like this. Not someone who was murdered and bleeding out in a bathtub. A strange feeling of fear, nausea and excitement welled inside her.

She moved her other hand to the woman's face and lifted a heavily painted eyelid. Her eyes were bright green, she had expected them to be brown. It was odd, looking at a dead person. She had seen many before. On television, in pictures, funerals and of course people Mr. J had killed. She had even killed a man. But she never approached a lifeless body. Something that once walked and talked and now could only lay uselessly, a shell of something someone had been once. The young woman was as real as Harley and yet she looked so unreal. Like a doll, staring at her with those eyes. Which despite their bright, vibrant color, now seemed so dull. Harley had never noticed that about dead people, how the life in their eyes just goes away. She let the girl's eyelid go shut again.

She took a moment to look at the corpse's face. Some blood leaked out of her mouth, from being dead and not from a wound. Joker had not cut open her mouth, his usually method of killing. Harley assumed he used other methods at times so that his "permenant smiles" didn't get boring. Mr. J would hate to be predictable. As she looked at the dead face she noticed red make up smeared across her mouth, not painted on though. It trailed down the girl's neck and across her cleavage occasionally blending with small patches of white greasepaint. Harley looked confused and then her heart sank realizing where the streaks of greasepaint were from.

"Having fun?" A voice behind her caused her to jump.

She looked behind her, though it was unmistakably Mr. J. He stood in the doorway with his shirt off and his suspenders hanging across his legs. There was a lot of blood on him as well, smeared across his body and staining spots on his purple pants.

"Um, no," she spoke quietly in response to Joker as she turned back to the bloody, paint smeared girl.

He sat down beside her, leaning against the dirty bathtub. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one with some matches found in his other pocket.

"Want one?" he offered the pack to Harley Quinn.

She shook her head no.

"Found em' in Missss Con-genial-ity's purse over there," he gestured towards the body as he took a drag.

Harley didn't look at him, she just continued staring at the girl. Joker noticed her fixation.

"Sooo," he began, "I uh, hope you weren't looking for a friend. Uh, she's dead ya know," he tilted his head back and blew some smoke upward, watching it float above him.

Harley nodded, "I know,"

Joker rolled his eyes, frustrated he was not getting anything out of her. Where was the usual cheery, excited, stupid Harley Quinn he wanted?

"You're blond again?" he wound a fake blond lock of hair in his fingers.

She pulled off the wig and tossed it on the floor. Now an angry expression on her flushed face.

Joker sucked the inside of his scarred cheek, "O-kay, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Harley bit her lip, feeling a lump rise in her throat, "She's got your face paint on her," tears blurred her vision.

"So," he blew smoke out his nose.

"You, you slept with her," her voice cracked, "Didn't you,"

"No," Joker shook his head, "No, there was no sleeping involved," he licked his lips.

Tears fell from her eyes, messing up her thick line of eyeliner. But she didn't feel like she was crying, just leaking. She didn't sob or make any sound at all. She just let the tears escaped her big blue eyes, taking in what Mr, J just said. It hurt. It hurt more than when he hit her or when he cut her. This was a different kind of pain, she didn't know how to relieve it.

Harley could not look toward him. It made her sick to see his indifference, he didn't care at all. There had been several times in their relationship where she overlooked his lack of empathy and instead felt pity for the Joker. This was to much. She felt betrayed and used. She had given everything to him and obviously she still was not good enough.

The fact that there was a dead body, murdered brutally by him didn't bother her much. Slowly she was becoming desensitized to death, it was a common occurrence when it came to living with Mr. J.

With anger rising in her she finally looked at him. He sat there carelessly, cigarette smoke floating around him like a demented halo. And without thinking Harley smacked him, hard, in the face. Then she sat back on her knees glaring at him.

Joker stiffened, surprised at Harley's actions. It took him a moment to comprehend what she just did. But when it sunk in, he made Harley regret hitting him.

He pushed her backwards into the wall, pinning her shoulders back he held her still, "Don't ev-er do that again," he said in a surprisingly calm voice.

He had a tendency to do that, he would sound unusually calm or happy despite a situation that contradicted his voice tone. It was almost more frightening then when he did sound angry.

"You cheated... on me," Harley choked out, crying now.

She knew that Joker's way of life was about breaking rules. She knew that he murdered and stole on a daily basis and that something like adultery would not be beneath him. But she had thought that she meant more to him. In the mind of Harley Quinn he would never do any of those things to her, only to other people. She thought she was above that because she thought he loved her.

"You weren't here," he replied.

"What kind of excuse is that?" Harley sobbed.

Joker slammed her head against the wall, causing her vision to swim a little bit, "What makes you think you're sooo important, hm?" Harley didn't respond, "Answer me," he growled, gripping her messy hair and shoving her towards the wall once again.

She saw stars when her head collided with the bathroom's wall, she blinked them away, "Because," she cried, "I don't work for you and I ain't like her," she pointed to the bathtub, "I love you," she said through gritted teeth.

BAM! He slammed her head again before standing up. Joker turned his back on the sobbing clown girl, inhaling more cigarette smoke. He could not understand why she was bawling like she was. What did she expect from him? If anything Harley Quinn should have been happy. She should be thankful she was still here with him, she should be thankful for her life. God knows Joker wanted to kill her on more than one occasion. And who did she think she was anyway? She had left him alone almost all day. Even if he told her she could did not mean that she should. What happened to her obsession with him, sure Harley was still pretty clingy but she ventured out into Gotham with out him today. Joker did not like that.

Worst of all, it confused him more, he didn't understand why she suddenly felt comfortable apart from her Mr. J. Had he given her any reason to believe that she was in a normal, healthy relationship that she dreamed about? Perhaps he had. After all his current perplexity with Harley may have given her the wrong idea.

He should have gotten rid of her before now. Joker had thought he would kill her after his first scheme involving her, it was the only reason he had her move in. But for some reason he didn't, Joker could not even explain why he had spared her life up to this point. She was just so damn irresistible and she was becoming harder and harder not to kiss and touch. He didn't like that, having even a hint of weakness, it didn't feel right. He was the Joker, he was supposed to be above weaknesses.

"I thought you loved me to," she finally said after a few moments of silence.

Her voice sounded as pathetic as she looked right now. She sat broken-hearted on the filthy floor holding her head. Her make up was steadily running down her cheeks with a flood of tears spilling from her now puffy, red eyes. Joker stared down at her biting the inside of his scars.

She breathed a deep shaky sigh, "I never heard ya say it... but I didn't mind. Ya didn't need to cuz I just knew it. I knew ya loved me, but now..." she sniffed, "Now I wanna hear ya say it. I need ta know... Mistah J, tell me ya love me,"

* * *

_Ooooo cliffhanger... what will he say....._


	24. Forgiveness

Joker sucked on his bottom lip, feeling the "Y" shaped scar across it's center. Trying to think of a response. Obviously there was something between he and Harley Quinn or she would be dead by now. But it wasn't love was it? The world was so full of hate he was not even sure if he believed in love at all. Everyone was out for themselves in his mind so why bother caring for someone when one day you could hurt them, or worse, they could hurt you.

The Joker could not remember much about his past. Anything before scars was almost completely gone, coming to him in random pieces. And all of them distorted with static like a bad television signal. He could not recall if he had ever been in love. If there was really any special girl that was often featured in his gruesome scar stories.

All he knew is that there was a girl sitting in front of him, waiting for him to respond.

He stepped towards Harley. She stared directly into his eyes with her blue ones now overflowing with tears. They looked hopeful, she wanted him to say "I love you to Harley" and make everything okay. She would forgive him for the prostitute, she would forget it ever happened. And maybe, just maybe this would be a step towards healing and normality for her Mr. J. Butterflies rose in her stomach, fluttering with anticipation. He knelt down in front of her.

"Harley," he said taking a drag, "Harley Quinn,"

He stroked her hair lovingly and smiled at her. She smiled back, wiping away the tears in her eyes, "Yeah Mistah J?" she sniffed.

And in that moment his smile faded, he violently grabbed onto a chunk of her red hair to hold her still. Then he took the burning cigarette in his right hand and pushed the glowing, red tip into her cleavage.

Harley gasped in pain and tried to squirm away but he sat across her lap to keep her from escaping. He pressed the cigarette into a few more places across her chest leaving small, circular burns on her flesh. Joker looked straight into her eyes, not breaking his gaze until he felt she had been punished enough. He tossed the cigarette into the bathtub. It landed in the blood and what little spark thrived on the end of it dulled and went out.

Joker walked out, slamming the door shut behind him, leaving Harley to cry alone on the floor.

* * *

He stood outside the door. Harley really lost it when he left. She sobbed uncontrollably until she couldn't breathe. Joker slid to the floor and listened to her, taking those short, fast breathes that come involuntarily when someone cries to much. He licked his lips, he liked the way it sounded. There was something about Harley's cry that was different from everyone else. Of course Joker heard a variety of different cries in his life, all of them different but none like Harley Quinn's. It seemed that everything Harley Quinn did lately had its own unique and somewhat endearing quality to the Joker. He hated that. Not only was it annoying but it ruined other women for him.

The hooker he killed was nothing like Harley. Her screaming and crying was not the same and not much fun. Sure she was terrified of him the moment she walked into the room with him but it just wasn't the same.

Joker drug his tongue across his lips and across one scar again, but slower this time. The longer he sat there listening the more uncomfortable he became. He wanted her so bad right now. He ran his fingers through his hair smearing white greasepaint into the mess of green and dark blond curls. He anxiously sucked on his bottom lip, he pretended it belonged to her. He wanted in to be Harley's lip in his mouth.

He thought about simply going back in and making his wish come true. Its not like it would have been hard, Harley would easily forgive him, as always. But that's what bothered him. He did not want to be forgiven. Besides if he went in there and had sex it would be some kind of apology in the eyes of Harley Quinn and he did not want that either.

Joker let out a shaky sigh upon hearing her sobs turn into soft, pained whimpers. He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. His crouch throbbed.

He tossed himself onto the bed at the end of the room. Harley could still be heard though not as clearly. So Joker turned up the volume on the television drowning her out. He stared up a the dirty fan hanging in the center of the ceiling. His fingers tightening into a fist around the bloody, torn bed sheets.

* * *

After what seemed like hours Harley crept out of the bathroom. She moved carefully and quietly in case Mr. J was still mad. He wasn't, she could see him asleep in bed from the glow of the television. She turned it off, since it was so loud. She didn't know how he could have possibly fallen asleep with all that blaring noise.

Harley slid off her heels and crawled into bed beside her Mr. J. For a moment she just sat there and watched him. He twitched every now and then in his sleep, still not completely relaxed.

Harley sighed and rolled onto her back beside him. She did not really feel tired. In fact she was a little bit uncomfortable in her tight costume. But she was okay with staying there, Mr. J might need her. She would hate for him to have a nightmare and be all alone. She ran a finger over the cigarette burns across her chest. They were sore, in a few days they would be better though. Just like her stitched up cuts and her bruises, they would all heal eventually. Harley convinced herself they did not matter much and that Mr. J didn't mean to hurt her.... Did he? Immediately she felt guilty for doubting him. She told herself a few more times that the way he is was not his fault. That he couldn't understand the pain he caused her.

Tonight had made her doubt the Joker more than ever. She hated herself for feeling that way. After all, no one said that curing him of his awful past would be easy. She just needed to be stronger. At least that's what Harley Quinn told herself.

Though at the same time another voice inside her head was telling her to get out. To leave here, leave Gotham and fast. Something told her things could only get worse.

Just then Joker shifted in bed. He moved closer to her, wrapping his arms around her in his sleep and snuggling against her neck.

Harley smiled. That had probably been what was left of that boring Harleen Quinzel in her talking. That girl did not know Mr. J like she did. She stoked her sleeping clown's hair. She was never going to leave him.

* * *

_Short I know, but it made its point. I just wanted to further write on how the Joker can do almost anything to Harley and she'll forgive and forget._

_I also wanted to show how there is something between the two of them. I don't know if its love but its the Joker, I mean he should have killed her by now. I think he has a bit of a fascination with her as well. And of course Heath's Joker would probably react a little differently to Harley Quinn then say Mark Hamill's. At least I think so. There's just a lot of sex when it comes to Heath's take on the Joker._

_And yeah, the prostitute is still dead in the bathroom. It occurred to me just now that she's still laying there. Its sick but I see Joker as taking death very casually, I mean duh, he's a friggin' murderer. So yeah its not a big deal and he woulds not be in much of a hurry to do anything about the body. Gaah I'm a sicko._


	25. Surprises

Harley felt something on her face, something cold with a slight wet feeling across her skin. She blinked her eyes opened, squinting at the sun shining through the now opened window. Joker straddled her, screwing the top back onto a container of black face paint. He was dressed again, with his purple trench coat and fresh greasepaint across his face.

"Mistah J?" Harley said confused, she touched the side of her face feeling the wet paint on her skin.

"Morning, beautiful," he opened some bright red grease paint, "Go like this, " he told Harley while puckering his lips to demonstrate.

She obeyed sticking out her pink lips. Joker smeared a glob of red paint across them before wiping the excess make up onto the bed.

"All done," he climbed out of bed and straighted his vest.

"Thanks for doin' my make up puddin'," she rubbed her top lip and bottom lip across each other distributing the red paint more evenly, "Why'd ya do that. Are we goin' somewhere?" she sat up.

"You guessed is Harl," he said cheerfully.

Harley felt relieved that he was in a better mood.

"We're going on a trip to the police station," he pulled a can of laughing gas out of his trench coat pocket and waved it around.

"Oh goodie," Harley clapped, "Lemme get dressed,"

She hoped out of bed to get some black and red clothing out of the closet.

"I'll be waiting in the van," called Joker as he headed out the door.

Harley hastily grabbed a pair of shorts, a tank top and a pair of tights with black and red harlequin diamonds on them. After sliding on a pair of mismatched shoes, a red one and a black one, she grabbed two hair ties and put her hair into pig tails. Then full of excitement she hurried towards the door. She was so happy to go out with Mr. J again. Harley Quinn had worried that the party incident may have kept her from going to work with Joker again. She was glad it hadn't. As wrong as she knew it was, she just loved to watch him work. He was so smart. Harley knew she should not feel that way, after all her goal was to eventually lead a normal, happy life with Mr. J. But slowly that was fading, she began to think less about the future and more about present. Focusing on what fun things she and Mr. J could do at one particular moment.

His lifestyle was definitely beginning to grow on her. She was no longer following a daily routine of eating or sleeping, much like Mr. J. Everything came randomly, when she felt like it. As unhealthy as it was she felt surprisingly good most of the time. Harley Quinn liked not being at the mercy of a schedule, she did not know how she ever lived under one before.

Harley went outside and hopped in the van beside Jonathan, who was looking very distressed, "You okay Jonny?" she asked.

"Yes... no," he rubbed his temples, "Joker are you sure we should do this now?"

Joker, who was sitting behind he and Harley replied, "Yeah," he shrugged "Why not? Don't worry it'll be fun,"

Before long the van was packed with henchmen, along with all the weapons and supplies they needed. Then they pulled out if the apartment complex's parking lot and headed for the Gotham City police station.

Jonathan's head was spinning, a lack of sleep, hallucinations and the strong possibility that he was going to die weighed heavily on his thoughts. On the other hand Scarecrow was overjoyed by their little outing. Even if it was not his fear toxin or the Scarecrow causing the fear he was still pleased by the situation. It had been months since he had experienced someone else's fear. He tired to tell Jonathan to stop worrying so much and just enjoy, but the former doctor was losing it and fast. He had no idea how he was going to document the effects of the laughing gas when he was to busy fighting off imaginary birds.

"Why are we doing this during the day?" Jonathan covered his eyes trying to block out the hallcinatuons swirling around him.

"I felt like it. Besides, it doesn't reeeally matter if it's day or night. We are doing this in the police station, ya know, we've got the same chance of getting and or sent to Arkham as we could at night," he clicked his tongue.

"Is that what's wrong, ya nervous about going back ta Arkham?" Harley stroked his hair comfortingly.

Joker noticing the attention she was giving to Jonathan spoke up, "Hey Harl,"

"Yeah Mistah J?" she turbed around in her seat.

"Would you sit with me?"

Harley eyed the two henchmen sitting on either side of Mr. J, "Well I would but there ain't enough room,"

"Yes there is," Joker protested, Harley glanced at Jonathan, "He's fine sit with me," the clown insisted with some frustration in his voice.

"Okay," Harley climbed over the back of the seat and landed in Joker's lap.

"Much better," he smiled, looking towards Jonathan, "Oh Harley, I almost forgot," he reached into his trench coat pocket and pulled out a shiny, silver revolver, "You'll need this. Now you pro-bably won't kill anyone today, it's just meant to uh, intimidate. Same thing as Wayne's party,"

Harley nodded and took the weapon in her hands.

Joker smiled at her, running his fingers on the diamond pattern of her tights. He liked the way she looked with that gun, a little to much. He broke his gaze, trying to focus on the task ahead of him. He wished Harley wasn't making it so damn hard to concentrate.

"Hey Chuckles," he called to the henchman driving the van, "Go a little faster, I told Mime we'd be there by ten,"

* * *

Meanwhile at the police station, Mime was wearing the uniform of the cop that the Joker had recently killed. No one had recognized that he did not really work there. The police in Gotham came and went very quickly, for obvious reasons. It was not uncommon for most of them not to be familiar with their own co-workers.

The disguised henchman watched the clock, five minutes until ten. After waiting a few more minutes he decided to get things started, Joker would be here soon. He took out a hand gun strapped to his belt and cocked it.

The while holding it in the air he said, "Nobody move," in a calm voice.

Everyone stopped and looked towards Mime. Commissioner Gordon came out of his office, "What is going on here officer?" he asked frustrated.

"I said don't move," Mime repeated himself pointing his gun towards the Commissioner, "And while all you mutha fuckers are at it, get your hands up. I don't wanna see nobody pullin' a gun on me either. In fact why don't ya'll toss em on the floor over here. Any bitch that don't do what I say gets a hole in their head. We clear?" he spoke with authority, "Move it people, my boss'll be here any second and he ain't gonna take no shit, now, c'mon," Mime said after no one made a move to give up their guns, he looked towards Gordon, "I will start shootin'," he threatened.

The police commsionr took a deep breath, "Let's do what he says," he ordered trying to think of a way to gain control and not lose any men, "Who's your boss?" he said sliding the gun towards Mime as the other police followed his lead .

The henchman stopped the weapon with one foot, "You know him commissioner,"

With almost perfect time clowns flooded into the police station, shoving sawed off shotguns and rifles into the policemen and women's faces.

"Everybody on your knees now!" yelled Mime.

"Gooood morning Gotham PD," a familiar voice greeted.

Commissioner Gordon watched as the crowd of masked henchmen dissipate revealing the Joker standing in the doorway. Harley Quinn was by his side, the Joker's arm wrapped tightly around her waist. This was the first time Jim Gordon had ever seen her up close. It was clear to see she was the Joker's girl, and not just because of the face paint and brightly colored hair. She was completely disheveled, hair messed up and uneven. Gordon noticed stitches, cuts and bruises littering her arms. The skin across her neck and chest was decorated with purple bruises as well, along with what appeared to be burn marks. And yet with all her out ward signs of physical abuse the young woman wore a wide smile across her painted lips and a look of admiration in her eyes as she stared lovingly up at the clown.

The Commissioner then noticed a figure standing behind the couple, Jonathan Crane. He had thought he had seen the last of him after Batman turned him over to the police for the second time. The former doctor seemed to be doing well in Arkham, why would he want to team up with Joker? Whatever the reason Crane did not look happy to be there. He seemed shaky and looked pale as he clutched a notebook and a pen to his chest, staring intently at the floor.

"Great," Gordon said under his breath.

Joker leaned over towards Harley at his side, "Why don't you pick out a policeman and stick your knew gun in his face, kay sweetie?"

"Allrighty Mistah J," she happily bounced over to a police officer nearest to her, "Hi I'm Harley," she introduced herself cheerfully as she aimed the loaded gun at him.

She turned around and blew the clown a kiss.

Joker looked across the room, "I must say I'm impressed," he began, "I was expecting at least a lit-tle bit of a fight out of you guys. But look at you, just sitting there, waiting patiently, unarmed," he licked his lips, "But of course probably half of you uh, boys in blue work for the mob in your spare time huh?"

"What exactly do you want Joker?" the Commissioner asked.

"Shut up," Mime pressed his hand gun against Gordon's temple.

"No, no Mime it's alright," Joker said, "I'm happy to answer aaall of little Jimmy's questions," he walked towards him and knelt in front of him, "What was that again Jim-bo?"

Gordon sighed, "What do you want?"

"Hmm," Joker bit his lip in thought, "It's not that I reeealy want anything... But I do have a complaint," his tongue darted across the corners of his painted mouth, "It's ab-out the Bat-man," he said the vigilante's name slowly and carefully, "See, ever since you and your little uh, team here decided to act-ually enforce the laws against being a vigilante I seem to have a looot less play time with Batman. Aaand obviously I'm not happy about it-uh,"

Part of Commissioner Gordon was not surprised that the Joker would come to him with something like this. He was no physcologist but it was clear to see the man was not right. He had a warped vision of the world and in it he obviously needed a Batman. He had not spent much time physco analyzing the clown but Gordon had gathered that much.

Gordon muttered his usual line about the Batman and how it was his duty to in force the laws against vigilantism in Gotham, trying to sound as though he actually believed it.

"Yeah," Joker began, "But I don't think Bats is a criminal I mean he-," he stopped short.

The clown had an amazing ability to read people. He could see right through Commissioner Gordon's obviously rerersed explanation. He cocked his head to one side and squinted. Then a smirk spread across his scarred face.

"Ya know Commissioner... you uh, you don't seem to convinced to me," he lowered his voice.

"I don't know what your talking about," Gordon avoided his eyes.

Joker nodded, "I think you do," he whispered, "Don't feel guilty about it. I consider myself pro-Batman," he smiled smugly, "In fact, that just may have saved your life Gordo," the clown stood up.

"What do you mean? What are you going to do?" he asked angrily.

"Shhhh," Joker hushed, "You'll spoil the surprise,"

* * *

_I have no idea if that was at all realistic but I've never tried holding up a police station sooooo..... yeah. But I figured in Gotham it wouldn't be hard since all the cops are corrupt, working for the mob and looking out for themselves, so they'd do as they were told and hope their ties to the mafia would save them._


	26. Laughter is the Best Medicine

* * *

Without warning, Joker released a spray of laughing gas on to the policeman nearest to him. The victim coughed and swatted at the thick cloud of toxin floating around him. Jonathan hurried towards him to record what happened.

At first it wasn't much. Everyone stayed quiet and still for a moment, watching and waiting. After failing to remove any of the smokey fog from his view, the police man attempted to stand. But it was to late. He had already breathed in a significant amount of laughing gas. He fell back down, continuing to cough. The coughing turned into gags and slowly into a raspy laugh. Joker gave a satisfied smile.

"Hey what's happening to him?" someone shouting.

"What the hell?" another voice said.

The pained laughing continued, the man's face turned red. He thrashed around on the floor and his eyes rolled back into his head. After a few more laughs and gasps he stopped and remained still. Jonathan stopped writing in the notebook and slowly bent closer to the first laughing gas victim. With great caution he reached out his hand to check for a pulse. None.

"He's dead," he said quietly to the Joker.

"Damn," the clown stared down at the body, "He didn't keep smiling. Oh well, good job Jonny,"

The room irrupted into yells, demands and threats after the breif period of stunned silence. The clown henchmen prepared to shoot if needed.

"Calm down everybody. You'll get your turn," Joker assured the crowd, "How many doses are in this thing Jonny?" he asked, yelling over the noise. He pulled up his sleeve to look at the can of laughing gas strapped to his wrist.

A police officer attempted to be a hero and dove towards Joker. The clown reacted quicker then him and sprayed the laughing gas directly in his face. He fell to the floor gasping and shaking violently with laughter. Jonathan wrote it down and glanced up to find Joker, he was already spraying another cop and bursting into a fit of giggles as he did.

"See Jonny," he yelled, overjoyed by the chaos around him, "I told ya this would be fun,"

* * *

The police man Harley had been guarding was suddenly becoming courageous as well, "Stay down," she cried pointing the gun in his face.

She quickly looked over her shoulder, hoping to get Mr. J's attention so he could gas this one.

"I mean it, I'm gonna shoot," she warned.

The man obviously did not believe the clown girl and began to get to his feet. Harley squeezed the trigger of her handgun with a shriek. She found that shooting the man with that short of a range resulted in blood splattered clothing. But she did not dwell on her stained tank top to long. Instead she looked around the room for Mr. J. Harley was starting to get scared, she couldn't see him anywhere. The room was a chaotic mess of cops trying to regain control, henchmen trying to control the cops and a thin haze of laughing gas. Joker had disappeared among the crowd.

Harley began to push her way through the room with no idea as to where she was going. She slipped and lost her weapon among the crowd. Then suddenly, someone grabbed her ankle.

* * *

Jonathan completely lost Joker. He moved to quickly amongst the crowd who was swirling like a whirlpool through his eyes. The colors of the blue police uniforms and the red and white clown masks of the henchmen seemed to stand out more than ever. Every color looked brighter then when he walked in. They swirled in circles and then stopped but continued throbbing and swelling into different shapes right before his eyes. But the worst part was the noise. Laughing, crying and screaming blended together, almost as one sound, pulsating so loudly he could feel it in his whole body.

He stumbled backwards, still holding on tightly to his notebook. Jonathan felt sick and faint, almost as if he'd fall over.

He ran his fingers nervously through his sweaty, dark hair and began looking for a way out.

* * *

A victim of the laughing gas that had been writhing on the floor where Harley had fell, he caught her ankle. He was definitely not dead yet and barely laughing anymore. Though he still gaged and wheezed, heaving huge breathes.

Harley screamed and struggled to escape the police officer's grip but he held on tight.

"Mistah J! Mistah J help!" she screamed and attempted to free herself, "Mistah J?"

She slammed a platform boot down hard onto his arm several times until his grasp on her ankle loosened. Then with one final kick to his face she escaped and raced away, hoping to run into Mr. J somewhere.

* * *

Jonathan felt his way along a wall until he reached a door. Without any idea as to where it lead to, he ducked inside assuming it had to be better than outside in the middle of all that madness.

After closing the door behind him he slid into a sitting position, his back against the door. _What the hell are you doing?_ Scarecrow whined. _Get back out there, I was just starting to have a good time._

"Shut up," Jonathan's voice cracked.

_Don't tell me to shut retorted angrily, Get up and go._

"You may have no common sense, but I do. I could get killed. No, no I'm not going," Jonathan said forcefully, "And stop talking so I won't feel the need to respond to you,"

_Oh yeah, think you're so smart Mr. Common Sense? Well, what are you gonna do from here hmm? Sit on your ass until this is over and whatever police is left will come and arrest you? Oh yeah, good plan._

"As a matter of fact it is," was Jonathan's hoarse reply, "At this point I'd be glad to be back in Arkham,"

* * *

Needless to say, Harley Quinn did not find the Joker. However she did make her way through the crowd and across the room. At the end was a door, which was thankfully unlocked. As fast as she could she slipped inside before anyone noticed.

She peered through the large windows from inside the room. Allowing her to safely view the chaos going on outside of it.

The room appeared to be an office. It contained a desk, which was scattered with papers, two chairs and a computer. A nameplate sat on top of the large metal desk, "Commissioner Gordon", it read. This was an office. Harley figured it would be a good place to hide until Mr. J was done with his laughing gas. She sat down on the chair sitting in front of the desk and sighed with relief. Then something caught her eye amidst the mess of paperwork, her picture.

* * *

_Don't say that!_ Scarecrow yelled, _You hated it in Arkham. Now listen to me, somewhere in this building is a room where the police contain all the evidence of any crime that involved Batman. Find that room_.

Jonathan rubbed his temples, "No," he groaned, "I've got enough problems already, the last thing I need is to be caught tampering with police property,"

_How the hell did you get a PhD? Honestly? Don't you get it?_ asked the very annoyed Scarecrow.

"Get what?"

_Two words jackass, Fear. Toxin._

* * *

Harley grabbed the paper to be sure, it was her. Her old ID from Arkham Asylum, re-sized to become a larger image and printed out on a sheet of computer paper. Her slightly wavy hair was pulled back in low pony tail, no make up on her face and she wore a modest light blue collared blouse. It was strange how unfamiliar the picture was. It had only been a little over a month and the change in her looks had been astounding.

Harley walked to the other side of the desk to explore the rest of the cluttered desk. She soon found several more photos of herself, most of them from identification cards and others were attached to newspaper clippings featuring articles the Gotham Times did on her after she accepted the job as Jonathan Crane and the Joker's therapist.

Of course she knew that the Gotham City police were investigating her "disappearance" but what she noticed next surprised her.

* * *

The idea was tempting to Jonathan, he had worked so hard on that fear toxin and now it was just sitting somewhere in the police station, being of no use to anyone. Everything he went through to create a weaponized hallucinogen were being wasted. The years he spent trying to perfect it, for nothing. Not to mention all the trouble he went to keeping it a secret.

Jonathan Crane had wanted to get better. He was slowly healing in Arkham and he would have never left if it weren't for the Joker's goons coming and getting him. It was all there fault that he was losing control again.

_Well? _Scarecrow waited.

His alter ego was becoming so hard to resist. He desperately wanted that fear gas now. Jonathan knew what would happen if he got his hands on the toxin again, but the temptation was to great.

Slowly he stood up, his vision swimming as he did, distorting the dimly lit hallway before him.

"Okay," he gave in.

* * *

Gordon had several grainy images of Harley Quinn. He knew.

Harley supposed it was bound to happen at some point. Somebody would eventually figure out that Harley Quinn was the new and improved version of Dr. Quinzel. But she still felt sick knowing her secret was out. It was not the prospect of jail time that bothered her, though it would kill her to be separated from Mr. J like that. She felt sick because she wanted to be punished as Harley Quinn, partner in crime to the infamous Joker. Not Harleen Quinzel, therapist went crazy. She wanted her past identity to remain a secret, she wanted it to be completely erased as if Dr. Quinzel never existed.

She stared at all the photos and notes taken about her, all the links between Harleen Quinzel and Harley Quinn that Gordon had recorded. Then swept an arm across the desk sending the papers flying everywhere before raining to the floor.

* * *

Jonathan had no idea where anything was in the police station. Sure, he had been there before, more than once, but he was not exactly taking a tour of the building. And of course his current mental state was not helping things, miraculously however, the second room he came upon was the one he had been looking for.

The door was unlocked, he thought that was strange, a room containing a lethal weapon should be a little more secure than that. Scarecrow assured him that it must be fate.

Jonathan slid quietly inside. The room was dark, aside from the light coming from a computer screen towards the back. Along the walls were tall shelves that nearly reached the ceiling, they contained several cardboard boxes. Upon approaching them Jonathan found that each box was labeled, more luck. Quickly he found one labeled "Scarecrow" in quotations, along with the date which the fear toxin had been confiscated.

He carefully slid the box off of the shelve and sat it on the floor. And there it was, his fear toxin. Placed neatly inside a plastic bag at the bottom of the box waiting for him. Only one can was there though, he assumed the rest must have been destroyed. No matter, he would easily duplicate the toxin once he was done working for Joker. At least that's what Scarecrow told him.

Jonathan removed the toxin from the bag along with the straps he used to connect the can to his wrist, which was in a separate bag. He strapped it to his wrist and then covered it with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Then he took his mask out of the box. A simple but effective tool with his experiments in fear and the human mind. Originally, he had sewed it together to protect himself from the effects of the toxin while he tested it on patients, but it proved to hold more than one function. The rough stitches and the jagged mouth had been effective in frightening an already scared victim of his fear toxin and according to Carmine Falcone's repetitive mumbling, resembled a scarecrow.

He made the mask fit into his pocket as best he could and returned the box to its place on the shelf before leaving the room as quickly and carefully as when he had entered.

* * *

Harley stomped on the papers, the images of her former life. She wished everyone would just forget Harleen Quinzel like she had. Why couldn't the police just report her dead? They lied all the time to make the citizens of Gotham feel safer, why couldn't they simply lie about this? Harley Quinn crumbled up a piece of paper and threw it all the wall before slumping to the floor, tears welling in her eyes with frustration.

Suddenly the door flew opened. Harley looked up, it was Joker.

"Mistah J!" she squealed.

There he was, just when she needed him. Harley couldn't have been happier, but Mr. J... not so much.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded to know.

"I came in here cause I shot my policeman and I-I got scared and I couldn't find ya and and I just didn't know what to do," she stuttered trying to explain herself.

He bent down to her level on the floor and held her face with one hand, the other held a bloody knife to her mouth, "I need to know where you are. Got it? At all times," Joker squeezed her cheeks together, "If I put you somewhere, you staaay there," he gritted his teeth.

Harley nodded quickly, with that he stood up and grabbed a hold of one of her pigtails, standing her up as well.

"Mistah J, ow, where are we, ow, going?"

"Away from here," he replied pulling her along, "I'm out of laughing gas. Remember when Jonny said this stuff could make people aggressive?"

"Yeah," Harley winced.

"Well uh, he was right,"

* * *

_I have no idea if the police would keep Jonathan/Scarecrow's stuff, again, no experience in that area. I thought it seemed reasonable though, and again it's Gotham. The villains escape from Arkham every two weeks and such._

_So I'm feeling like I really don't describe a setting enough. I dunno. Sorry if I don't, I'm working on that._

_Hmmm what else, my authors notes suck lately, I'm so lazy. Oooo Joker doll, really, really rad Joker doll. If you haven't seen this sexyass thing yet then you need to go look at it: http:// www. action-figure. com ?op=modload&name=ImageBank&file=index&id=91818 _


	27. The Knife

The scene outside of Gordon's office was even more chaotic than when Harley left it. The cops who had experienced the last bit of laughing gas were having a bad reaction, a violent one. They attacked the Joker's clown thugs, despite being unarmed. A couple of the aggressive laughing gas victims had even began to attack their fellow police officers. The room was exploding in screams, both angry and painful ones, and of course laughter. It sounded like a cross between a laugh and a suffocating, wheezing noise. It was loud to, loud enough to be heard despite all the shouting.

Joker drug her towards the door, by her wrist instead of her hair now (Harley was thankful for that) and the two rushed out the door.

"Mistah J, the van," Harley pointed out as he led her past it.

"Leave it. We'll hide better without it, Gordon managed to get back up and the first thing they'll look for is that van," Joker replied looking directly ahead.

"Who's the back up?" she questioned.

"I dunno, other police, swat team maybe,"

Harley let out a surprised scream as Joker abruptly ducked into an alley. They hurried down the it, not quite fast enough to be running, but quickly enough to escape unnoticed.

"But Mistah J, what about everybody else?" she asked, the people they left behind suddenly occurring to her, "Spades and Mime and... oh my God," Harley gasped, "Jonny! We left him!"

"Would you just shut up and be glad I didn't leave you," Joker stopped and turned to her.

Harley froze, "Y-you wouldn't leave me, would ya?" she whimpered, trying to convince herself he did not mean what he said, "Ya love me Mistah J,"

Joker groaned, "I don't have time for this, we gotta get out of the city, fast," he ran his fingers through his green hair, "C'mon," he grabbed her by the wrist again and pulled her through the ally.

Eventually they made their way back to the sidewalk, several blocks away from the police station. Joker's tongue darted subconsciously across his lips, thinking of his next move. His mind was almost working to fast, he could not think of what to do. Just then he spotted a taxi parked along the side of the street. Harley stumbled as he suddenly pulled her along again. Thankfully few people on the busy street seemed to notice the two, letting out a surprised gasp or a frightened "Its the Joker!".

He pushed Harley into the taxi first and then followed, "I'm on break," the taxi cab driver said taking a bite of his sandwich, "You gotta call another cab," he glanced in his rear view mirror to take a look at the customers interrupting his lunch break, "Holy shit," he breathed when he caught sight of the Joker himself.

"We're late for a costume party," Harley Quinn blurted out upon realizing the driver noticed Mr. J.

Joker rolled his eyes and removed machine handgun from his coat. With a deafening bang and Harley's startled shriek, Joker climbed to the front of the car and shoved the driver out the door before speeding off.

"Damn it," he grumbled attempting to wipe the blood and gelatinous pieces of brain off of the window and windshield.

Harley dug her nails into the leathery car seat as she nervously watched the skyscrapers of Gotham fly past her. She tried to convince herself that she was safe with Mr. J and that's all that mattered. Yet somehow she did not feel very secure. Harley was concerned for Jonathan's safety as well, her best friend. She and Mr. J left him behind, it made her feel sick. But most of all she thought about what Mr. J said to her. That she should be glad he didn't leave her behind. Harley wondered if he meant that, if he would really abandon her.

She could not tell if it was the Joker's driving or the anxiety of the day so far, but she felt like she was going to throw up, "Mistah J where are we going?" she asked quietly from the back seat.

He didn't respond.

Harley sat back, deciding it would be best not to pursue an answer. She closed her eyes tightly and hoped she was having a nightmare.

* * *

"Harley," Joker tugged on her red pigtail.

It was then Harley Quinn realized they weren't moving anymore. She opened her eyes and found the cab was parked in a short driveway, in front of a huge, white house. Mr. J stood beside her leaning on the opened car door.

"Are you uh, sitting here all day or what?"

Harley shook her head no and climbed out of the taxi, her knees shaking a little bit from the excitement. She looked at her surroundings, rolling green hills spread out as far as she could see. Only a few houses scattered across them, all of them large and picturesque with perfect flowerbeds lining them.

"Where are we Mistah J?" she looked back towards the house they were parked before.

"The Palisades, I think," he answered walking up the stairs towards the front door.

Harley rushed to his side as he reached for the knob. Surprisingly it turned and opened the door. That was unexpected, someone had to be home.

"Hell-llooo," he called in a sing song voice as he stepped through the door, "You've got com-panyyyy,"

Harley smiled at Mr. J's tone of voice, he was going to have some fun, she could tell. She had been watching intently trying to read him so that she would know which mood she should expect next. His expression changed slightly upon realizing the house was currently occupied.

As pleased as Harley was with Mr. J's slight display of joy, she found herself torn. His happiness would be at the expense of someone else. These were the moments when he wasn't killing for revenge or to let out some pent up aggression. He was not going to do it to save himself or benefit in any way. Harley had no excuse for his actions in these scenarios, because that's when Mr. J killed for fun.

"Anybody home?" he called again in an unsettling sweet voice which echoed through the large room.

The interior of the house was as spacious as the outside of the house appeared. The first floor included a living room, a dining room, a kitchen and a tall staircase heading towards the second floor.

Harley stayed close behind him as if she would get lost, "What are we doin' in the Palisades puddin?"

He shushed her while looking around the room, "Stop asking questions," he whispered, "Its much more fun when you don't know what happens next," he clicked his tongue and went for the stair case.

Of course Harley followed, like a lost puppy. At the top of the stairs was a long hallway with several rooms lining both sides of it. The Joker's victim was in the third room down the hallway to the left.

It was a boy that appeared to be in his late teens with dark, spiky hair. He sat in a chair, his back facing the doorway, listening to head phones and playing hooky from school. The boy had just finished texting a friend when someone slipped the headphones off of him, letting them drop on the floor. Assuming it was one of his parents come home early from work he prepared to make an excuse as to why he was not sick in bed like he was this morning. But as he turned around he realized the person behind him was not his mom or dad.

"What the hell?" he said stumbling to get to his feet.

The Joker stood before him, smirking and tossing a knife from one hand to the other. Harley peeked out from behind him.

The victim's breathing grew faster, he was visible frightened now. That made Joker smile darkly, pushing at his facial scars. For a few moments no one moved. The clown simply watched his prey, waiting for him to make a sudden move, then he would go in for the kill. He guessed it would be any moment now, the boy's eyes, avoiding the Joker's, darted back and forth towards the intruders and then his bedroom door. As if he could escape.

The victim took one last look at Joker and Harley before making a move towards the door. Joker caught him and slammed him hard against a wall. After hitting the wall he slid down it and into a sitting position on the floor. He pressed as hard as he possibly could against the blue, bedroom wall as if it would get him further away from his attacker.

"What's your name kid?" Joker crouched on the floor in front of him and licked his scars, showing them off.

"Alex," he replied shakily, "What do want from me?"

Joker ignored the boy's question, "Alex... I used to know a guy named uh, Alexsss," he looked down at the knife in his gloved hands, "That reminds me... do ya wanna hear a story," Joker nodded as if answering the question himself.

Harley continued to watch from a distance as Joker told his story. It differed greatly from the one he had told her in Arkham Asylum. She wondered why he lied about how he got those scars, how he thought of so many stories and if he could even remembered the truth about his jagged "smile". Harley did not pay attention to the story. She didn't really want to hear it, instead believe that the one he told her was true. In that one he had related to her somewhat. In that story they were the same.

She watched the Joker telling the story, his facial expressions exaggerated by clown make up. What fascinated her was how he told it, with so much emotion. It seemed as though he had himself convinced that he was telling the truth. Maybe in that moment he thought he was.

His story was almost over when Joker took his eyes off of the frighted boy and looked towards Harley, "Harley c'mere," he said.

She gave the pepiest "Sure thing Mistah J" she could muster at the moment and sat beside him. Harley tried to look as cute as possible knowing Mr. J would want to put on a show for his victim.

She twisted one of her wavy, pigtails around her finger and batted her eyelashes, "What chya need puddin'?"

"Alex this is Harley Quinn," he introduced her, "Harley Quinn this is Alex,"

Harley gave the boy a quick wink and waved flirtatiously before looking back to Mr. J.

"Harley I was just thinking, you've uh, never used a knife. Have you?"

"Hmmm," Harley puckered her red lips in an exaggerated thinking face and tapped her chin, "Nope, I don't think so Mistah J,"

"Well, we'll hafta do something about that, won't we?" he passed her the knife he had been holding closely to Alex's mouth.

Harley's smile faded as she took the weapon in her hand, "What," she whispered.

"Ohhh don't be nervous pumpkin, it's not that hard. You don't have to carve him a smile or anything," Alex made another weak escape attempt, Joker pushed him harshly back, "Just make some puncture wounds,"

Harley looked down at the shiny blade of the knife. It felt heavy in her hands, one of Mr. J's favourite knives, the blade was wide and thick and had a small space in the center like a potato peeler from hell. She stroked the flat of the blade, "I don't know Mistah J,"

"It's easy," he took the knife back for a moment, "Watch,"

He held Alex's upper body back with one arm the sat on his knees across the boy's legs to keep him still. Alex squirmed, anticipating what was coming next. Joker held up the knife so Harley could see. He turned it upside down, demonstrating how to hold the hilt in his fist. Then he plunged it downward sinking it into Alex's thigh.

The victim wailed in pain, Joker pulled the now bloodied knife out of his leg and handed it to Harley Quinn, "Your turn sweetness," he said in a sing-song voice.

With the weapon in her hands once again she felt a familiar nervousness come over her. The same torn feeling that she experienced when killed for the first time. She was in a similar position now, choosing between Mr. J and a man she didn't know. The only difference was the Joker was in no danger, that would make her actions even worse.

Harley tightened her fingers around the knife and held it upside down before looking to Mr. J for approval. He nodded.

Alex was still moaning in pain from the wound Mr. J had inflicted on him, "Seriously," Joker began talking to Alex, "She's nervous enough without you're whining... soo can you shut up?" he asked before turning to Harley again, "Proceed," he said to her motioning to continue with his free hand.

Killing the guard in Arkham had not been this hard of a decision to make. Maybe it was because she shot him. Guns are quicker, with good aim a man can be dead in moments and only a quick feeling of pain before death. Unlike Mr. J's weapon of choice, an unforgiving blade. And if Harley stabbed Alex, she knew his death would be slow, if at all. But maybe that's why Joker had mentioned leaving her behind, a comment that still plagued her thoughts. Maybe it was because she was not strong enough for him, not as impulsive and free with her actions as he would like her to be. Sure, she had come along way since Dr. Harleen but maybe it was still not enough.

Harley lifted the knife above her head with a shaking fist.

Perhaps this is just what she needed to do to win her man over completely. Harley convinced herself it was for the best in the long run. Best for both of them.

She looked at Mr. J and then at Alex's leg. And then sent the blade downwards towards it's target. The boy yelled in pain again as Harley stabbed the knife just above his knee cap. She could feel the sharp blade of the knife push through his leg, breaking the skin and severing muscles as it sunk inside him. It made her feel queasy.

Joker covered Alex's mouth, "Good Harley, now take it ouut,"

Harley looked down at the knife, blood swelling out from beneath it. She swallowed hard, "Do I have to?"

"Uh-huuuh,"

Harley nodded and reluctantly slid the weapon out causing more blood to rush to the surface and louder screams from Alex, though muffled by Mr. J's hand.

"Now," Joker started, "I want you to try it ooone more time. Uh, only this time aim a little higher,"

Harley repeated the same robotic movement she had taken before to stab Alex. This time hitting the center of this thigh, just below Mr. J's knife wound. Feeling sick she jerked it back out almost immediately after stabbing him. It was easier then the first time, or so she thought, then she realized that by aiming higher like Mr. J said, she directly hit his illiac arteries. Blood spurted out onto Harley who screamed and quickly got out of the way. Joker giggled, blood shooting onto him as well. After enjoying Harley Quinn's sudden panic for a few moments he asked for the knife back so he could finish his story.

"Leeet's seeee, where were we?" he asked Alex, fading in and out of consiousness from the pain and blood loss, "Oh yeah,"

Joker sliced his victims mouth into a wide, opened smile and then let the now completely unconscious boy drop to the floor to bleed to death.

"Well that was fun," Joker stood up and began to explore the room.

Harley, who was huddled on the floor, she held her shaking hands tightly together. She could still feel the knife in her hands. Slowly she unclasped them and wiped the blood on her fingers onto the white carpet beneath her. Then she scooted forward to get a better look at Alex. His mouth hanging wide open and split from ear to ear like some horrible, macabre puppet. Harley wondered what it felt like to have your mouth torn so badly that it just hung there. It sent shivers up her spine, but most of all, it made her heart ache for Mr. J, he had to live through that.

She looked towards him as he flopped down on the Alex's bed, "Ooo it's a water bed," he said making the water filled mattress move, "Hey Harley-girl c'mere,"

Harley got to her feet but didn't approach him. She just stared at the knife in his hands, covered in fresh, red blood. The same knife she had stabbed Alex with.

"What's the matter Goldilocks? Ya think the three bears will getchya?" he giggled and then grabbed her hand pulling her onto the bed.

The two fell back onto the water bed. Joker, careless as to the way he was holding his knife accidentally punctured the mattress. Water shot out of the slit. Harley shrieked, Joker laughed and covered it up with his hands. He looked at Harley, still laughing, with that amused giggling he did somehow with his mouth closed. He bit his lip and then let the water shoot out again on to Harley. She screamed and giggled while trying to get away from the small fountain of water, but Mr J caught her. He held her down over top of it.

"Stop it Mistah J," she laughed, "It's cold," Joker straddled her waist keeping her from getting up.

Harley forgot about Alex quickly. Mr. J had that effect on her. Instead she laughed, harder than she had laughed in a while. The both laughed until their sides ached. Harley had tears streaming out of her eyes by the time she regained composure. Mr. J rolled off of her and onto the deflating bed beside her.

He looked over at her breathing heavily from laughing so hard, "We gotta find another bed, now,"

* * *

_And the moral of the story is... don't skip school or criminally insane clowns will come and brutally murder you. Not to mention ruin your water bed. :C_

_So this has been my biggest chapter :-o , I intended on having out on Saturday since it was Heath's birthday but that didn't happen. Happy late Birthday to Heath Ledger, we miss you._

_I'm pretty sure the bigass arterie in your leg is call the illiac arterie. If its not lemme know so I don't look dumb._

_This chapter was just more of Joker's mood swings, I love to play on them obviously. And of course Harley's continuing descent into madness. It's probably the cutest thing I've ever done. With the whole water bed thing. But sometimes I think the Joker is strangely adorable, so I wrote one of those moments. It also presents a little bit more on where Mr. J and Harley's relationship is... Does he love her? Or does he not? It's hard to tell huh.... good. *laughs evilly*_


	28. Confusion

The master bedroom was large enough to make two bedrooms. It was longer than it was wide and carefully decorated with chic dark-colored furniture and hardwood flooring. In the center of the room was a king-sized bed, covered in throw pillows and on either side of it, end tables with large, clear glass lamps. A huge window stretched across one of the walls revealing a beautiful view of the outdoors. But neither Joker or Harley was paying any attention to the view or room's the interior design.

Joker pushed Harley onto the bed, immediately he was on top of her kissing her hard on the mouth. His make up covered lips pushed hard into her's, so much so that it was painful. But Harley didn't mind. She returned his rough kisses, slipping her tongue into his mouth and running it across the bumpy scar tissue inside. Her hands felt the outsides of the scars as well, feeling every bump and crease that made them up, smearing her fingers with red paint.

Joker's hands could not seem to rest in one spot like Harley Quinn's. He frantically wound them in her hair, pulling out the hair pieces and letting the tangled, uneven hair loose. He felt across her side and positioned one of her legs so that it was easier to touch at the stitches which remained on her thigh. Of course, he could barely feel them due to the thick leather gloves he wore, only the feeling of a hard line across her usually smooth flesh. But he was not about to waste time removing the gloves yet.

Harley's hands slid off of the scars and onto the collar of Mr. J's purple coat. She began to work at removing it when he pushed her hands away. Confused she tried again, he pushed her away, this time holding her hands down as he began kissing down her neck. Hard, fast kisses that made Harley gasp in ecstasy and stained her skin with bright, red lipstick marks.

Joker had just began kissing and exploring Harley's opened mouth again when he suddenly pulled away. He got off of her and walked a few feet from their position on the bed before stopping. Harley still laying there watched Mr. J, confused. He just stood there, his dark eyes shifting around the room unable to focus on one thing. His hand clenching in to fists and the unclothing, almost like an involuntary movement. After a few moments of watching him Harley sat up.

"What's wrong puddin'?" she asked, genuinely concerned about his strange behavior, "Puddin'?" she repeated after he didn't answer her question.

She rose and went to him, wrapping her arms around him from behind and nuzzling against the dark fabric of his trench coat. It did not seem to have any affect on him, Harley moved so that she was facing him and took his twitching hands in her own.

"Mistah J," she tried to get his attention.

Harley moved his hands so that they rested on her waist and then slid her arms around his neck.

She stroked a few strands of hair out of the mix of sweat and white grease paint on his forehead, "Kiss me again," she encouraged him.

With that his eyes met her's, thinking she had successfully distracted Mr. J from whatever it was that had suddenly upset him, she smiled. She was wrong. Joker shoved her off of him, knocking her harshly into one of the end tables by the bed. A large lamp slipped off it's surface and crashed onto the floor shattering into pieces.

Harley Quinn made an attempt to stand again but Mr. J shoved her against the wall, her vision swam from the sudden knock to the head and she slid downwards. Joker straddled her lap and grabbed the sides of her face for a rough kiss. His tongue filled her mouth and slid back her throat making her choke a little. Then he began working at her bottom lip, sucking, pulling and biting down it. It hurt much worse than before, but Harley did her best to remain quite. Obviously Mr. J's mood had changed, and it was no longer and good one. Screaming when he kissed her might only make him madder.

She didn't make a sound until Joker grabbed her hair and jerked her downward onto the glass-covered, wooden floor. The pain became worse when he layedacross her biting her neck. Harleylet out short shrieks and gasps feeling the shards of clear glass being forced into her mostly exposed back. And she found that struggling beneath Mr. J made it worse. She bit her lip, holding back an pained sob and closed her eyes tightly so that no tears could escape. After a few minutes Harley felt Joker sit up again, she still kept her eyes shut until she heard the familiar metallic click of one of Mr. J's many knives. When she opened her eyes it was at her throat, the blade touching her lightly, enough to draw a small amount of blood.

_He wouldn't_, Harley told herself. She tried to convince herself it was all part of the game, Mr. J would never do more damage than a harmless little scar to his Harley Quinn. He was just playing games with her. Her mind raced frantically. She looked at Joker with pleading blue eyes. He grit his teeth, the red smile painted on his mouth was beginning to fade. Most of it had been wiped on to Harley, exposing the Joker's pale flesh underneath. The scars on one side of his mouth twitched in any angry snarl revealing his stained teeth. Most of them appeared bloody now, whether it was her blood or his mouth bleeding, she did not know. Harley's frightened adrenaline rush prevented her from noticing if she was bleeding.

The knife twitched in Joker's hand scratching slightly at Harley's neck, another line of blood rose to the surface. Suddenly he moved the knife downward, so quickly Harley gasped unsure of which way the blade was headed. Instead of using it to slit her throat he ripped opened her tank top before pulling her roughly up and into a standing position.

The top fell to the floor as she was forced up. He pulled her close, his mouth crashing painfully hard into her.

Harleyfelt somewhat relieved to hear the knife he had been holding fall to the floor. Joker relaxed a little more, the kiss becoming less and less rough until it was almost normal. Harley, pleased with his sudden display of normal affection and assuming the worst was now over, began to kiss back. She brought her arms that had been pinned down by her sides up to caress his scars again.

Obviously he did not want her to do so. Joker pushed her backwards, this time she didn't completely fall. She stumbled for a moment, trying to regain balance and avoid the busted lamp on the floor. But it seemed just as Harley had steadied herself Mr. J hit her, hard.

She fell, but thankfully grabbed a fistful of the comforter on the bed before she went down. Her knees still made contact with the jagged pieces of glass beneath her though. Harley cringed at the pain in her knees only a moment before feeling something dripping down her face. Blood. She brought her hand up to touch it, steadily traveling out of her nose and down her lips. Harley Quinn stared at the red liquid on her finger tips, she could not believe Mr. J hit her that hard.

She stood up, the shards of broken lamp fell out of her bloodied knees and onto the floor again.

Beginning to get mad she asked, "What it wrong with you? Huh?"

He just stared at her in that strange way, like a dog ready to attack. His head tilted to the floor but his dark, piercing eyes facing upwards, watching her.

Harley stood waiting for an answer when Joker ducked behind her. In one hand he grabbed a fistful of her hair and in the other he held a large hunting knife to her throat.

"What's the matter Haaar-ley?" he cooed in her ear, "Am I making you mad?"

Harley noticed something odd about his tone of voice. She had listened to him taunt his victims before, herself included. But this voice seemed unfamiliar, it was not full of confidence or his usual ironic "comforting" tone. The Joker's voice seemed almost... shaky.

"Hmm?" he pulled her closer to him.

He felt hot pressed up against her. She could feel he was unmistakably hard. Harley wondered why he was doing this to her, or to himself for that matter. He clearly wanted her as much as she wanted him right now, why wouldn't he take her?

"Well ya know what makes me mad?"he asked, "Little girls that talk back," he shoved her again.

After Harley fell he picked her back up by the hair and slammed her into the opposite wall. She screamed when he sunk the knife deep into the drywall, just missing her face. He silenced her with yet another hard kiss, this time roughly grabbing her chest as he did.

Harley felt a strange mixture of emotions, she felt scared of him right now, frightened by what he was capable of doing next. She was angry with him for hurting her and yet she wanted him more than ever. Her body betrayed her as it reacted to him groping her, she moaned. The anger and fear faded fast, replaced with her unchanging love for Mr. J and her overwhelming lust. She hated herself for being so easily swayed as they slid down the wall.

On the floor again, Joker tugged of her shorts off. She watched him as he began to remove his several layers of clothing. She thought the sudden burst of violence was finally over now.

His lips repainted with her blood he removed his trench coat, vest, tie and stopped halfway through his shirt buttons before he crashed onto Harley Quinn. More kisses, rough but normal for her "puddin".

She opened her eyes when she felt him move awkwardly on her. While he continued to kiss her, Joker fumbled with his trench coat laying beside them. He pulled out another knife. Harley panicked and tried to free herself, but it was no use. Joker held her down in a forceful kiss.

Then he retracted the small blade and began to decorate her left arm. He didn't not cut that deep, just enough to be painful and leave a ribbon of blood across her delicate arm. Harley gave in, letting him do whatever he wanted.

* * *

_*pants* Easily the most difficult chapter I've ever written. Sorry it doesn't feel finished, since it was technically all foreplay. I thought I'd leave more to the reader's imagination._

_Obviously this is more of Joker struggling with his feelings for Harley. I have no intention of making this a lovey-dovey romance of a fic but I like these scenes with Mr. J. I think Harley brings out a tiny little bit of humanity in him and he hates it._


	29. Home Sweet Home

Joker decided to stay in the Palisades a few more days after he took care of the owners. He got rid of the couple quickly and quietly with a knife when they returned home from work that evening, none of their neighbors suspected a thing.

Despite their stay in the nicest and safest part of Gotham it was the most exhausting three days of Harley's life. It seemed like she and Mr. J never left the bedroom. Of course Harley Quinn had fun, she loved the attention from him, but it was still very tiring. Sometimes when they would have sex Joker would be fairly gentle, at least by his standards. Then other times it would be incredibly rough and painful. Harley's skin was covered in cuts and bruises from those times. She worried that some of her cuts were a little to deep for just a band-aid. Not all of them seemed to be healing correctly, but Mr. J didn't seem concerned so she figured she should not be either.

Mr. J didn't seem to concerned with any thing at all. When he wasn't "interacting" with Harley he was usually asleep. Harley convinced him to eat a couple of times on her few trips outside the bedroom and into the kitchen, but that wasn't much. It was rare that Joker did not have his hands on her, he even clung to her in his sleep. Of course Harley couldn't complain, she loved him more than anything. It was just strange and very unlike Mr. J behavior.

Harley Quinn escaped from his sleeping grasp a few times to venture to the kitchen or to take advantage of the luxury of a clean shower stall (something she had lived without since she moved in with Mr. J). But he would often realize when she was gone and end up in the shower with her.

It was definitely a strange few days. The way Joker treated her went from good to bad to worse and then back to good again. And the entire time he maintained an indifferent attitude, not quite mad at her but not happy either. That scared her more than anything, more than the rough sex, more than the knives he used on her or when he'd hit her. It was the calm before the storm, the slight fear in the back of her mind that he was going to do something really bad. Something that would make her regret falling in love with him. Harley Quinn did her best not to dwell on that doubt. Oddly enough Mr. J himself seemed to take away those fears. Just when she had herself convinced that she made a mistake with him he would kiss her with such intensity that she just knew he had to love her.

It was almost noon, despite how dark it looked outside from the pouring rain. Harley lay in bed absent mindedly picking at a rip in her tights, a large knife wound in the center of that rip.

The answering machine was going off, someone from Alex's school telling his parents that he was not there for the third day in a row and how he would need a doctor's excuse. Harley felt like picking up the phone and telling the person on the other end that he was dead, those phone calls were getting so annoying.

The parent's were getting phone calls from their work as well, asking why they were not there and then threatening to fire them. If someone really cared about them they would have come directly to the house. Harley had yet to see that happen. She decided what Mr. J said about people was right. No one really cared about anyone else, they just looked out for themselves. And why shouldn't they, at this point the only person she cared about was Joker.

Harley looked towards him, asleep in bed beside her. Basically all his make up had come off, only thin lines of black paint remained smeared across his eyes like eyeliner. Most of his green hair dye was wearing out as well. Underneath was sandy blond and brownish colored hair. It didn't seem right, like it was someone else sleeping beside her. The only reminder that it was indeed the Clown Prince of Crime was the twisted scars across his face and decorating his bare chest and upper arms.

Harley Quinn reached out to touch a pale line of scar tissue on his chest. Almost as if to make sure it was real. She had barely laid her fingertips on it when he flinched. Afraid she awoke him Harley looked at his face expecting opened eyes. No, still asleep. His breath quickened and he began biting his bottom lip anxiously. The lack of make up made it easy to read the expression on his face. It was something Harley had never seen on Mr. J, fear.

* * *

_He struggled against his attacker, not really fighting back, he had never been a good fighter. Instead he just tried to escape. He refused to face the dark figure that had ambushed him from the shadows. He did not want to see it. He had no idea what the dark silhouette really looked like, but he was not about to find out. It would be terrifying, he just knew it. _

_He pulled and fought to run in the opposite direction. He did not know just how the figure held onto him, he could just feel a strong force keeping him from escaping. It's grip tightened, choking the breath out of him. Gasping for air he fell to the floor and was turned so he lay on his back, facing the monster. The choking stopped but he felt to exhausted to run away by this time._

_The creature before him laughed an eerie high pitched giggle. He wanted to close his eyes, he tried to cover his face but he couldn't. No matter what he did he could always see his attacker, though it remained a blackened silhouette. _

_Suddenly it came closer to his position on the floor. Slowly a face morphed into view, a white face with to black eyes resembling a skull and a blood red mouth with long, knotted scars on either side. The red seemed so bright against the ghostly white face, despite the darkness that filled the room._

_"Takes more muscles to frown then to smi-ile," the face laughed._

_The scars surrounding the mouth moved oddly with the smile. They seemed stiff and painful, as he stared at them he realized something. The scars matched his wounds perfectly. One side being long and curved into a hook shape at the top, the other short and almost straight across. In the center of his bottom lip, an odd little scar that matched his own. And suddenly the face became even more familiar, the shape of the eyes, the nose and the mouth. Even the jaw line seemed the same shape as someone else's he had known._

_That's when he realized it. The face before him was his own._

_"No," he breathed staring at the horrible make up caked scars stretching across his face, "No!" he began to scream._

_The smiling version of himself cocked his head to one side and drew a long knife out of his coat. The silvery blade somehow glistening despite the darkness of the room. The knife disappeared when he thrust it downward, without looking at where it was headed. In the midst of his cries a searing pain ripped through his body, starting at his chest and then coursing downward._

_

* * *

_

Joker awoke with a long gasp followed by short panicking breaths, as if he had just been held under water. Harley who had practically fell of the bed with surprise, hurried back to her spot to comfort him.

"You were dreamin' again puddin'," she said soothingly stroking his hair.

He looked around the room, calming down a bit more as he recalled his surroundings.

"Do ya wanna talk about it, maybe?" Harley asked him hesitantly.

Without a word, Joker shook his head no, finally relaxed again.

"That's okay. I undahstand Mistah J," Harley quickly said.

Suddenly he grabbed her arm pulling her on top of him and began kissing her. His tongue tangled around hers, Harley winced as his hands ran over top of the unhealed cuts on her body.

At that moment, the most inconvenient time, Joker's cell phone began to ring. The sound came from his coat pocket which was slung over a chair near the bed. Joker ignored it flipping Harley over so that he was on top and continuing to ignore the phone call.

Harley guessed this time would be gentle, though she knew all to well that the Joker was a difficult man to predict. But his kiss had not been violent, that was a good sign. The phone rang again. Joker growled and climbed out of bed to answer it, cursing as he did.

"What the hell do you want," he answered the cell phone, obviously angered by the interruption.

Harley sat up on her elbows and watched him talk, not paying much attention to the context of his conversation. She looked at his paint-less facial expressions, a rare sight. In Arkham Asylum he was not allowed to wear make up, she had seen him without it then. This was different though. It was stranger having known him better, now that they were a couple instead of a doctor and patient.

Each little eyebrow movement or the slight twitching of his scars was somehow speicial and mesmorizing to Harley Quinn. It was odd to see his the face when paint was not distorting his facial expressions. She watched intently until he stopped talking and tossed the phone back into his coat.

Harley laid back down assuming Joker would be back to finish what he started. But he didn't, surprisingly, he began putting on his shirt.

"What are ya doin' Mistah J," questioned Harley Quinn.

"That was Chuckles," he replied buttoning up his hexagon patterned shirt, "They found an abandoned warehouse in the narrows and are ready to get back to work," he pulled up his green suspenders after tucking the shirt into his pants.

Harley thought for a moment, "Back to work on what?"

"Chaos Harley, spreading chaos. Duh,"

She nodded, "So what are we doing then?"

"Go-ing to our new home," Mr. J said pulling on his vest.

"I kinda liked this home," Harley mumbled.

"What?"

"I said, just realized I ain't got a shirt and my tights are all ripped ta pieces... I can't go out half-naked like this," she made an excuse.

Joker just rolled his eyes and picked up the ripped tank top, still lying on the floor.

He shook the glass off of it, "Stand up," he said.

She did, he put the torn garment across her shoulders like a vest. Then tied the two ripped ends together making a very revealing top, not that Harley minded of course.

"This won't work," she said continuing to pout a little.

"Theeen go through the closet," he pointed towards the walk-in closet at the other end of the room, "I doubt the uh, previous owners will be gettin' much use out of their clothes any-more,"

"Oh but Mistah J all of those things are soooo boring. I've looked through it already," Harley whined.

She knew that would get him, Mr. J liked the skimpy Harley Quinn costumes. And not just for his own viewing pleasure, Harley knew he liked the attetion it got from victims as well. The Joker being a performer of sorts, liked to put on a show and everyone knows a good magician has a pretty little assistant. Harley smiled at the thought, she liked that analogy of their relationship. Just as long as he didn't try to saw her in half.

"Fine," Joker seemed to concede, "We'll stop by our old apartment on the way to the warehouse and you can get your stuff. I need some facepaint and some new shirts anyway," he examined his shirt and vest, splashed with a large, brownish bloodstains.

"Okay," Harley sighed, though that was not what she had in mind.

But as she walked out the front door taking one last look at heating, air conditioning and clear running water she knew that she and Mr. J couldn't have stayed there forever. Maybe someday, she had not lost faith in her Clown Prince yet. It just wasn't possible right now.

* * *

_Happy Easter everybody!_

_Another Joker nightmare, I think it'll be his last nightmare I describe. I started thinking about the last one and how something attacks him in the end, and then I wondered how many people were like, WTF. I thought it needed some further detail. I hope it wasn't to confusing cause it was a major metaphor, he was basically fighting with himself. Obviously I don't think evil twins and what not are part of the Joker's past. It was more like the normal sane part of himself fighting with the part of himself that wanted to create chaos and murder simply because he wanted to prove something. It was "the Joker" taking over to summarize it a bit._

_Also, I noticed I broke 100 reviews. *does a kermit the frog yaaaaaaay* Thanks everybody for making that possible, I REALLY apprciate your imput on this fic, you don't realize how important your reviews are to me. :D_


	30. Alone

Harley stared out the window of the taxi cab as they entered the Narrows. It was strange how the city faded into dull shades of brown upon entering the Narrows.

"Sooo," she began after spending most of the car ride in silence, "Why did Chuckles wait to call, I mean, it took so long, I was startin' ta think nobody got outa the police station,"

"They were finding a new place to stay," Joker answered, "I think they were getting some new recruits from Arkham to,"

"Oh, that was nice of them," Harley smiled, "Or were they just tryin' ta get on your good side?"

"I don't have a good side," he replied.

Harley giggled nervously, unsure of how to respond. Mr. J was in a bad mood, he almost seemed tired.

"Is everyone okay?" she continued to talk though her mind was telling her to shut up.

"Yeah. I guess, some of them didn't get away. But they'll probably end up in Arkham, everyone pleads uh, insanity. I'll get em back," Joker explained.

"Who?"

He let out an exasperated sigh, "Spades, Happy, Bozo... uh two other guys, I forget they're names,"

"Is Jonny okay?" Harley Quinn asked.

"Yeah, why do you do that?"

"Do what Mistah J?"

"Why do you like the Scarecrow so much?" Mr. J sounded irritated.

"Actually its Jonathan, Mistah J, not Scarecrow. And we're friends. We have a lot in common," a small smile spread across Harley's face, "Are you jealous puddin'?" she laughed.

He rolled his eyes, "No,"

"Then why are you asking?" she continued to giggle.

"Curiosity... plus its uh, kind of annoying," was Joker's response, "I know that you would never cheat," he licked his lips subconsciously.

"That's true," Harley agreed, "But what makes you so sure?"

He shrugged, "I just know it. You're mine and that's not gonna change unless I say so,"

She nodded, completely unoffended by what Mr. J just said, "Yep, but I don't think you want it to change either... right puddin'?"

Joker turned the cab sharply into the parking lot of the apartment building, "We're here," he announced.

* * *

Harley Quinn stepped inside the apartment building, everything was as they had left it. Except for a horrible smell that wafted through their own apartment, Harley did not remember that being there.

The rotting odor smelled even worse in their bedroom. Harley went in and doned a red corset vest before she began packing her clothes. Mr. J changed and applied his clown make up.

"Ready to go?," he leaned on the bedroom door frame watching Harley shove things into her bag.

"That was fast," she commented, "I'm not ready yet and what is that smell?"

"I dunno," Joker shrugged, "How long are you gonna be?"

Harley shoved the contents of the bag down, trying to make more room, "Um, I'm not sure puddin', I'm kinda havin' trouble makin' everything fit. See?" she showed him the bag, "And I still have somethings upstairs I need ta get," the bag was completely full already, Harley sighed, "This ain't workin', I'm gonna have ta leave some stuff behind but I don't know what ta leave?"

"Look Harl, I can't wait here all day. Whyyy don't you get aall your things together and I'll uh, I'll pick you up later," he suggested.

She stopped fussing over her clothes, "You, you're gonna leave me here... all alone?"

"Weellll yeah. Ya gotta gun on you?"

She shook her head no, Joker dug in his pockets and pulled out a revolver. Harley wondered for a moment how he fit so many weapons on his person, then she came back to reality.

"Please don't leave me," she said taking the gun, "I'm scared,"

"Harley," he groaned, "You'll be fiiine, I mean, damn it how many people have you killed. You've got nothing to worry about. I'll go meet Chuckles, approve the new hide out and be right back here," he licked his scars, "Okay?"

Harley looked down at her overflowing bag, "Okay," she replied sadly.

She watched Joker leave, Harley did not know why she was nervous about being in the Narrows alone. After all, she had proven herself more than capable of holding her own. It was just so unusually quiet in the apartment building, the only sound she could hear was the rain tapping lightly on the windows. It gave her the creeps.

After decided which outfits she would leave there she went upstairs to raid some of the apartments for disguises and wigs. The upstairs hallway was even more unsettling then the bedroom. It appeared darker and longer than she remembered, she ran and ducked into the apartment where she and Jonathan had gotten their shopping disguises. Harley felt a little silly running like a frightened little girl.

She made her way through the living room towards the bedroom then she stopped, just before the hallway. There was something that made her increasingly nervous, she didn't know why. Harley had the distinct feeling that someone was watching her. Slowly she pulled the small weapon out of her pocket, she cocked it as quietly as she could and then turned. She whirled around quickly, her arms stretched out, she aimed the gun. No one was there. Harley lowered her shaking arms and stared into the darkness for a moment, just to make sure before she started towards the bedroom once again. That's when she saw a figure in the hall.

* * *

Jonathan sat on the cold, cement floor of the warehouse they would be staying in. They conditions were even worse than in the filthy apartment. He wrapped his over-sized sweatshirt around him for warmth, feeling the can of fear toxin hiding beneath its sleeve. So far no one discovered that he had it.

He silently watched the other henchmen work, moving in stolen items such as televisions, mattresses and couches for their new home.

Between the cold and his nerves Jonathan Crane was shaking terribly. He never thought he would long for that disgusting little apartment he had been staying at, or even Arkham, but he was. He knew he was in no condition to stay here, especially because the Scarecrow was getting restless. Somehow Jonathan didn't think his alter ego and the Joker would get along very well.

_Really? I think the clown and I would make quite a pair._

"Not you," Jonathan groaned inwardly, "I got the toxin and mask like you wanted, can you not just leave me in peace?"

_No, besides what good is the toxin and mask if you're not using it?_

"I am not using this,"

_Uh yeah, I noticed. That's why I asked the question on the first place. Sheesh, lemme make it simpler on you, are you going to use it? Yes or No. And do hurry with your answer, I have a feeling I'm gonna have a lot of convincing to do._

"Who am I even going to use it on. Mime, he'll break my neck... which is also your neck,"

Crane continued to talk to the voice in his head. Not verbally of course since there was henchmen all around him. Jonathan spoke inwardly to the Scarecrow, though he wasn't sure why. He did not want to argue with his own alter ego, but he was slowly losing the will to ignore him.

_Ha, I knew it you're scared, you're such a bitch. I haven't had any excitement in months. You're going to use that fear gas._

"No,"

_Yes!_

Jonathan Crane felt sick, this inner struggle was becoming to much. And without medication, extremely difficult to overcome. The room began to spin, his thought racing and swirling into chaos. His head throbbed in pain.

"Yo Jonny," Chuckles called to him, "You gonna get up and do something or what?"

He did not respond.

"Jonny," the henchmen said again.

Jonathan could not take the pain or the confusion he was experiencing. Hallucinations swam around him, still haunting his minds eyes after his eyes were closed. Flashbacks of the night Batman used his own toxin against him played in his head, with no detail left out.

"Whats a matter with him?" Mime murmured to Chuckles.

"I dunno," he answered before turning back to Crane, "C'mon man, the boss is gonna be here soon,"

He could see everything replay in his mind as if on a movie screen. The Bats face, mutated into some sort of grotesque monster, black goo oozing out of his fanged mouth. He demanded things of Crane in a deep, rough voice that sent shivers up his spine. He could not tell what he was saying however, he was to distracted by his fear and the overwhelming pulsating of the entire room. It jerked and spun and made him feel sicker.

Jonathan was scared. He wanted to hide, he needed to hide.

"Hey you," Chuckles nudged his sitting form on the floor with a steel toed boot, "You alright?"

He looked up at the tall henchmen standing above him, "Yes, I'm fine," the Scarecrow replied.

* * *

Harley let out a frightened, high-pitched scream.

"Calm down," a raspy voice spoke from the hallway, "I'm not going to hurt you," he began to step closer.

"No," the clown girl raised her gun again, "Don't you get near me,"

She recognized the eared cowl and the cascading black cape behind his Kevlar armored frame. The Batman.

"The Joker doesn't want me dead," he warned at the sight of Harley's gun aimed at him.

"I'm not the Joker," Harley tried her best to sound strong despite her shaking voice, "I don't think you're much fun,"

Batman continued to approach her slowly.

"I thought bats came out at night... what gives?," she stretched out her arms, holding the weapon out further.

Harley Quinn's breaths were coming faster and faster, so much so she feared she would hyperventilate. But she tried hard to hide it from the Bat before her.

Batman raised his hands slightly, thinking she would be less nervous if she knew he was not going to pull a weapon on her, "Don't be afraid," sounding as comforting as he could with his rough, disguised voice, "I want to help you Ms. Quinzel,"

Harley grew pale, her fearful expression changed to something almost blank and confused. She stared at him for a moment, "Quinzel... I-I don't know what you're talkin' about..."

"I know who you are,"

"No, no you don't.... you don't know," Harley said softly shaking her head back and forth.

Batman did not respond, he only stared at her. His eyes piercing through her from behind his cowl. He knew.

"S-so, what difference does it make anyway," her gun still aimed for the caped crusader, "What? I mean, do you think you can help me? I don't need savin'," slowly Harley Quinn found her voice.

"You don't have to stay with the Joker," he rasped.

Harley paused before a small, fleeting smile ran across her face, "Ya think ya know everything huh? Ya don't," she said, her courage gaining, "I'm with Mistah J cause I wanna be, not cause he's makin' me stay. That's what chya thought didn't chya? That he kidnapped me since I was his doctor and forced me to do his evil biddin',"

Bruce Wayne wanted to be wrong about Harleen. The night at the party she did seem happy, she certainly did not behave like a captive. He had decided to approach Harley, clinging to her innocence, hoping she wanted to be free from the clown. He had discovered that the apartment building was at one time their hideout. While he was investigating the couple came. When Joker left Batman saw it was the perfect chance to save the clown's former therapist. Bruce saw now that she didn't want to be saved.

"Harleen, you're sick... you need help," he tried to convince her.

"I'm not sick. I'm Mistah J's psychiatrist, I'm helpin' him get bettah,"

The Dark Knight watched the clown girl, still holding a gun in his direction. He was faced with two choices. He could either take Harley by force and get her to the psychiatric help she was in need of and risk being wounded, or he could leave her be.

He took a step forward, she followed his move with the gun. He took another step.

"Why don't you protect the bottom half of your face... Ya know, I'm a pretty good shot," she threatened.

Harley wondered herself if she could make good on that threat, just as Bruce wondered the same thing. Sure, Mr. J wanted Batman alive but he would be so much safer without him. Besides that if the Bat were to suddenly die, what reason would the Joker have to stay in Gotham? Suddenly aiming for the only exposed skin on his face and firing didn't seem like such a big deal. Joker would never have to know. There was probably hundereds of Gothamites who wanted the masking vigilante dead, the chances of him being murdered were high... who would expect her.

Harley's finger lingered around the trigger of the gun, caressing softly as she tried to make a decision.

Meanwhile the Batman was still facing his own dilemma. If he tried anything with Harley Quinn, he would surly risk death. _One girl or all over Gotham_, he began to think. Then he stopped himself, it sounded to much like Joker. Comparing one life to another as if one held greater value than the other.

Then he began to ponder Harley's fate, perhaps she was of some significance to the Joker. If that was the case, the clown may spare her life. Batman could not imagine the Joker caring about anyone, but he had kept his psychiatrist alive this long. So with that he made his choice.

"I'll go,"

"Really?" Harley said in disbelief, almost lowering her weapon.

"Yes," the Bat responded regretfully, "But the Joker can't be trusted. You know that. I'm going to let you go, but I'm watching,"

She laughed slightly at what he just said, "Is that why ya here in the first place Bats? Ya stalkin' me?"

"I just know the Joker," he retorted in his usual raspy voice, "He's just using you, do not trust him,"

Harley bit her lip in anger, her smug smile quickly fading "You don't know him," she said firmly.

Batman back the hallway once again, Harley assumed to climb out the fire escape and fly back to the bat cave or whatever it was he lived in.

"And stay away from us," the clown girl called after him, "Its your fault Mistah J's so messed up in the first place,"

With that the bat stopped. He did not turn around to face Harley, he just paused.

"Sure, ya didn't give him those scars but it was your influence that created the Joker. You gave him all those ideas about symbols and becoming who ya really are... and maybe that's true. But all I know is that you in your little bat costume is what made him decide to put on his," Harley's voice shook, "If there's one thing I learned when I was psycho-analyzin' Mistah J is that the Batman does more damage than he does good,"

Bruce continued to stand there, listening to what the former doctor was saying. He didn't want to believe that anything she said was truth but he could not shake his guilty feeling. He did not know why. He was not wrong, he was protecting Gotham, making it better. Batman may have infuenced whoever the Joker was before he became a scarred, mass murderer. But Bruce hoped that Batman inspired more good than evil. And if not right now maybe in the future, maybe someday.

"And what about Jonathan Crane," Harley continued, "He'll nevah be the same after you sprayed him with fear gas. Some hero you are huh? I mean, who are you really? I'm thinkin' maybe your just as sick as the Joker... you just have different ways of dealing with it,"

Batman looked over his shoulder towards Harley Quinn, her gun now relaxed as her side, "Joker will turn on you... I just hope I'm there to save you when he does,"

And with that he disappeared into one of the rooms in the hallway. Harley stood there for a moment, shaking with a mixture of fear and anger. The she decided to go back downstairs to wait for Mr. J.

* * *

_One thousand apologies for not updating in a week. A freaking week D:, I'm so sorry. I've been really busy and when I did get a chance to write it was not for this chapter. But FINALLY here it is._

_I really wanted somewhere in this story to do a scene with just Batman and Harley Quinn. I think there relationship is interesting since (I think) Harley resents him somewhat, seeing him as the source of Joker's problems. I think the character even said that on Mad Love. And I think Batman sort of pities her, or at least as much as Batman pities someone. _

_The Scarecrow has officially made his entrance. Things are gonna get interesting :)._

_Also my sis started a dark knight fanfiction, www. fanfiction .net/s/5004398/1/I_Wrote_This . She has told me what she plans on doing with it and its going to be hilarious. Joker and Jonathan move in together and there shall be drugs, cross-dressing and chaos galore. _

_Speaking of funny stuff, I came across these videos on youtube that are movie trailers but with the Dark Knight. For example: Bata Mia, Batanic and my fav, Batman and Joker Make a Porno. There's tons more here: www. youtube .com/profile?user=AEmovieguy&view=videos _


	31. In Trouble

Harley tucked her knees up against her chest as she sat near the front door. She thought about waiting outside for Mr. J to return but it was pouring rain. The rain splattered against the building in big raindrops that almost splash when they hit the sidewalk, but never last very long.

The clown girl looked around the apartment building at every corner and door just waiting for the Batman to spring out of one of them. Harley wondered if he was still lurking upstairs. She worried that the masked vigilante would suddenly change his mind about "saving" her.

The former psychiatrist was surprised by the Bat's decision not to take her away. She hardly thought her gun would keep him from trying to rescue her and yet she did not even fire a shot. She found that odd.

Harley understood a few things about the Batman, his need to save people was one of them. Whoever was underneath the black cowl had most likely suffered a great tragedy in life, not unlike Mr. J. And though he did not have the same reaction as the clown, the pain in his life changed his way of thinking. The Bat wanted to prevent anything bad form happening to anybody in Gotham.

If Harley didn't hate him so much she may have pitied him, knowing that goal of his would never be accomplished. In fact it would probably be the death of him. The Batman's life would most likely end at the hands of the people he fought so hard to protect. Everything he did would be for nothing.

Harley felt nothing for the vigilante and what she assumed would be his fate. After all he was the cause of most of Joker's problems as well as Jonathan Crane's. The other damage he caused did not bother Harley, unless it affected her. The only redeeming quality the Bat held was that if it weren't for his self-righteousness, Harley Quinn would have never met the Joker. She did give him some credit for that.

Harley jumped, thinking she heard a creak upstairs. Her mind began to race desperately trying to think of a plan in case the giant bat swooped down the stairs to take her away. Just then a taxi cab with a blood stained window pulled up. Harley hurried out of the apartment and into the rain. She dove into the passenger's seat and threw her bag into the back.

As they drove hastily into the street Harley glanced over at the Joker. His eyes scanning the road a head of him, his tongue absent mindedly tracing is lips.

Three days ago she was questioning her own sanity as he pinned her to the floor covering her with cuts and rough kisses. She wondered at that moment why she was allowing these things. Why she let him hurt her, without fighting back at all. But she soon realized that it did not matter what he did to her. No matter how he broke her, Mr. J would always be there to put her back together. To kiss it and make it better. She could not imagine losing him at this point.

They were meant to be. The name Harleen Quinzel, being so close to Harley Quinn was a sign. Not to mention that he had chose her to make his own. There was so many times, even in the asylum when he could of killed her. But the Joker never did.

Harley Quinn's love for the Clown Prince of Crime had only grown stronger since the day they met. Beyond the lust and excitement that surrounded the Joker. It transformed and evolved in to something the former doctor could not shake. She could not stop. Until the day she died she knew it, she would love Mr. J, faults and all as much as she could. And no one would take him away from her, Batman would not separate them. No matter what it took she would do everything she could to remain this way, by his side. It was where she belonged.

"Wasn't so bad was it?" Joker asked emphasizing the "t" on the end of it, referring to her time alone.

Harley shook her head, "Nope," she decided not to tell Mr. J about her little encounter with Batman, "You're always right Mistah J,"

* * *

It was not long before the two arrived at their new home, since Joker often drove dangerously fast. Harley grabbed her bag and stepped out of the taxi. She looked up at the hideout, a large, grey warehouse.

The inside was equally gray with cement floors and bright fluorescent lighting. Miss-matched furniture the henchmen stole of managed to find sat everywhere. In the vast open space, there was no pattern to where the couches, chairs and make shift beds sat.

Harley looked around at her new surroundings. Since it was a warehouse, there weren't many rooms, but at the end of the building a staircase led to three offices. Joker, of course, claimed one of them as his own office and the other one for he and Harley's room. The third room belonged to Jonny who insisted he need his own room if Joker wanted anymore laughing gas made.

Joker had thought the former doctor was acting strange. A little bit mouthy and somewhat louder than his usually reserved self.

"C'mon," Joker said walking ahead of Harley.

She followed him up the stairs and watched as he opened the door to the first room.

The clown looked at Harley Quinn, standing beside him, her overly stuffed back on her shoulder. It had been a while since he just looked at her, Especially with all her make up gone off her face, though she still did not resemble the doctor he had met in Arkham. Not with her black and red hair, now with blond roots beginning to appear in her part.

She had the most child like expression too. Joker didn't know quite what it was, maybe it was her eyes that did it. Round and blue looking around the room in wonder, simply because it was a place he had set aside for the two of them. It definitely didn't look good, it was dark and grey like the rest of the building, very different from the house in the Palisades.

Harley went inside and tossed her heavy bag of clothing into the corner. She sat down on the single mattress at the end of the room, across from a stolen television.

"I like it," she smiled and patted the mattress, "Come sit with me,"

Joker trudged in and dropped down beside her.

Harley's smile faded into concern, "Did I do something wrong?" she asked due to his indifferent mood as of late.

"Nooo," he shook his head.

"Are you feelin' okay then?"

He nodded, "I'm fine,"

"If you say so Mistah J," she snuggled up next to him, putting his arm around her, "I've been meanin' ta ask you somethin'," she began, "Would you ever leave Gotham?"

"Why?" he removed her from clinging to his side and laid back on the mattress.

"Dunno, just wonderin'," she laid down cuddling beside him, "I mean there's lots of other places we could go... you could still cause chaos, if ya wanted to. But don't chya ever wanna leave, won't that overgrown bat ever get boring?"

"Haven't we talked about this enough," he groaned.

"I just wanna make sure ya don't love him more than me," Harley giggled, though it was fake.

She was truly concerned with getting Mr. J out of Gotham, especially after talking to Batman. She wanted to be as far from Gotham City as possible, knowing that Batman wanted to save her. It was bad enough when he was hurting Mr. J, now he was threatening to tear them apart.

Harley had made it her mission to cure the Joker and escape from this awful city as soon as possible. But she decided that maybe the Joker's transformation into an upstanding citizen was going to take much more time than she anticipated, if it happened at all. And the clown girl accepted that. No longer did it matter who he hurt, even if it were her. Harley would ignore when he killed or stole or even blew up a building. She would be happy as long as they were together.

"C'mon," she positioned herself on top of him, "Let's just go,"

"Where?" he asked mildly curious as to what she'd come up with.

"Everywhere! We'll go everywhere, we'll be like Bonnie and Clyde. We can pillage and plunder and then come back to our hideout and have even more fun," she said suggestively kissing down his painted jawline.

"Pirates pillage and plunder Harley,"

She giggled, "Okay then we'll be like Calico Jack and Anne Bonny,"

"I'm not buying a ship," Joker added lazily.

Harley giggled more, "You know what I mean silly. It'd be great, just you," she quickly kissed him, "Me," another kiss, "No Arkham Asylum," kiss, "No Commisionah Gordon," Joker held her against him for the next kiss, preventing her temporarily to escape and name someone else. His tongue pressed against the insides of her cheeks and his hand up her shirt. When the kiss ended Harley rested her head in his chest, playing with the collar on his vest she said softly, "And no bats,"

Joker, who had been content stroking Harley's exposed back, stopped, "What did you say,"

"Nothin' hunny," she nuzzled his neck.

"No you said no bats didn't you," he sat up pushing her aside.

Harley twirled her hair around her finger, "No puddin' ya must be hearin' things,"

"Don't lie to me Harley Quinn," he slammed her against the wall.

"Well, yeah I said bats. Geez sorry," she pouted, pressed against the wall, "But what's wrong with that. All he does is hurt ya. We're better off without him," Harley Quinn blurted out avoiding his eyes.

Joker grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up with his free hand. The other pinned her against the wall, "No Harley we're not. Because without a Bat-man there's noo Joker and if there's no Joker, there's no Harley Quinn,"

"We could try it," she offered hopefully.

Joker rolled his eyes, "What kind of shrink are you? You should under-stand Batman and I by now,"

"I know, I know," Harley held up her hands in surrender, "You're symbols, he's a symbol of hope and you're gonna break him, I know. But puddin' did ya evah stop and think that maybe there's nothin' really special about the Bat? Like he's just some guy in a bat suit?"

Mr. J let go of Harley, who sighed with relief, letting her guard down way to soon.

For a moment, the Joker did not do anything. He simply sat there, eyes cast downward as he chewed on his scarred bottom lip. Harley thought that maybe he was considering what she told him. As it turns out he was not considering her statement, instead he was considering what he would do to her next.

And after a few silent moments he looked back at Harley through cold, dark eyes. She offered a small smile, he punched her in the face.

Harley Quinn gasped clutching the side of her face Joker just hit. It wasn't long before he grabbed the collar of her shirt and slammed her once again into a hard, unforgiving wall.

"Don't ever say that again, do you understand?" he shook her slightly.

"Yes," she sobbed a reply.

"Batman is not just some guy," he growled, "Do you understand that-uh?"

Harley nodded a response and Joker paused.

"Ya know jealllouseee uh, isn't flattering on you puddin'," the clown's voice became surprisingly calm again as he retrieved on of the many knives from his pocket.

A small pocket knife, as shiny and silver as the others. Her breath quickened and her heart pounded harder when he slid the blade through her parted lips.

"Not at allll," he pushed the knife against the right corner off her mouth.

Harley Quinn began whimpering when she started to taste blood. Joker cut the corner of her mouth slightly, letting the bitter, red substance leak into her mouth.

"No, please stop," her cries distorted slightly by the cold blade threatening to rip her face.

Joker cocked his head to the side, "Why, ya don't like thiiissss?"

The knife pushed against her with more force. It cut deeper making Harley scream, "No, no, please,"

"Oh. Well, what about thiiss?" he slid the weapon to the left side of her mouth, just knicking the flesh.

"NO!" Harley screamed.

"Ah, ah, ah. Inside voices little girl," Joker positioned the knife in the center of Harley's full lips and made a small cut.

Her entire body tensed, she gasped at the sensation of the knife in her lip.

"Ya don't like that either?" the clown giggled, he flipped the blade and sliced into her top lip, "So hard ta please,"

Harley Quinn shrieked and pressed against the wall in a failing attempt to escape.

Joker licked his lips as he focused on her own lips, "I don't wanna fight Harls, but you gotta learn your lesson. You uh, can't mouth off to me, like you've been doing," he held the knife inside her split lip, "Shh sh sh. You're okay," he cooed, "Do you think you've learned a lesson?" he eyes met her's.

"Uh huh," she said trying her best not to move and push the knife further through her flesh.

"Yeeaaah maybe," Mr. J paused, "Maybe not-uh," he moved the knife again to the corner of her bleeding lips.

Harley was glad when he decided she had enough and removed his knife. As he placed it back into it's rightful pocket, he returned to his not so Mr. J like state. She had expected him to be excited by the blood and her fear. But he didn't touch her after returning his knife, all he did was stare at the door.

"I'm uh, going out," Joker finally spoke.

"Okay," Harley said softly, wiping her tears and beginning to get up.

"No, you're staying here,"

She had assumed she was to come along, lately she had been going with him.

"Why?" she said quietly.

"Beeecause," Joker began as he stood up, "Bad little girls don't get to go to work with Daddy,"

"I'm sorry. Can I please come?" she pleaded.

"Nope, in fact I don't want you to leave this room," he explained, "I want you to be here when I get back,"

"Cause I was bad?" Harley asked.

"Yep," Joker turned to go.

"I love you," called Harley Quinn as he left.

* * *

_*beats a dead horse* Argh its getting so difficult to right this. The story is beginning to wind down, I know the end but I have no clue about the spaces in between. That explains my lateness on posting a new chapter. Sorry._

_So at this point Harley's attitude has changed even more that she doesn't care if Joker remains a criminal or not, she just wants him away from Batman. Of course she'll always be in a fantasy world thinking that he (the Joker) is in love with her, just as much as she is with him. But now she's realizing okay maybe I can't change him that easily and maybe not at all._

_Meh I didn't love this chapter myself so I apologize if it sucks. As my fics begin to end I get depressed at start to suck. But I do assure you that its ends with a bang. Because as Mort Rainey has taught us; the ending is the most important part._


	32. The Thing About Jonny Is

"Jonny! Jonny! Jooonnny!," Harley Quinn pounded on his door.

Scarecrow threw opened the door, "What the hell- oh its you. What do you want?"

"I need ta make spaghetti,"

"What are you talking about," he examined her bruised eye, "Did the Joker finally knock you senseless?"

"No. Look," she held up a beat up looking VHS tape.

"The Lady and The Tramp... I still don't get it,"

Harley sighed, "You've never seen this? The dogs are eatin' spaghetti and then they both pick up the same noodle er something and they are both eating it," she began to explain with lots of hand gestures, "Then they get into the middle and they kiss. So I figured if it can make two dogs kiss then it can stop Mistah J from being angry with me,"

Harley Quinn had spent the entire day inside the room where Joker left her. Where his told her to stay. She watched every movie she had swiped from the apartment, which included, The Lady and The Tramp, Cinderella, The Little Mermaid and Sleeping Beauty. When the movies ended her lips finally stopped bleeding, freeing her to do other things besides sit and press a bloody wad of toilet paper against them. She fixed her hair, several times until she settled on her trademark pigtails. Harley fixed Lyle's hair as well. And sense the doll she found in an abandoned apartment did not have much hair, it was very difficult. After that managed to consume most of her time, she began thinking of ways to make up with Mr. J. It was now nightfall and she thought of a plan, hoping her best friend Jonny could help her out. But the plan was not a good one.

"That is... a really stupid idea. I mean no offense. No I do mean to offend you, you deserve it after that dumb idea," Scarecrow said.

"Oh," Harley looked downward, "Well can I come in anyways? I need someone ta talk to,"

"Why not," the Scarecrow shrugged and let her in.

The small room was already a mess. If Harley had not been so concerned with she and Mr. J's fight she would have asked Jonny why he was being so uncharacteristically messy.

"I'm gonna hafta make it fast cause I ain't supposed ta leave my room," she explained as she sat down on a folding chair placed randomly in the room.

"Well that's good cause I don't know how long I would be able to stand you for anyway," Scarecrow lit a cigarette and plopped down on an old, stained recliner across from her, "Tell Dr. Crane all your problems," he said releasing a mouthful of smoke.

"I don't know where ta start...I guess with Batman. What do you think if him?"

"I love em'. Anyone who releases a concentrated dose of fear gas in my face is a friend of mine," he replied sarcastically with the cigarette in his mouth.

"Really?"

"No, that was called sarcasm Harley. Of course I hate him. He's just as bad as you and me, if not worse... even the cops think so," he took a drag, "And when it comes right down to it; there's nothing special about him,"

"That's what I told Mistah J," Harley agreed.

"And you were right Quinn. I suppose we should know though, after all, we've both worked with our fair share of crazies," he shrugged, "That's all Batman is, crazy. I'm gonna bet on post dramatic stress disorder... or something."

"Yeah, try tellin' Mistah J that," she gently touched her swollen eye.

"Well of course he's not gonna get it Harley, he's as crazy as the Bat. Probably suffers from the same thing. They're perfect for each other,"

"I told you not ta call him crazy... he's not," she defended Mr. J.

"Really?" Scarecrow asked, "I must not have been paying attention. So what kind of fantasy world are you living in that you believe the Joker is sane?"

"I'm not livin' in a fantasy world," Harley crossed her arms, "Mistah J is... quirky,"

Scarecrow laughed, "Quirky? Are you kidding? Murder; yeah that's real quirky,"

"Think whatevah ya want, but he ain't crazy, I know that,"

The Scarecrow sat forward, crushing his cigarette on the floor, "Why do you defend him like that? I mean you know what's gonna happen when he gets sick of you right?"

"He's not gonna get sick of me," Harley Quinn protested.

"Sure he will, you're his bitch now but it won't be long before he finds someone new. And then...," he ran his finger across his throat.

"I dunno why you'd tell me that. Especially cause it ain't true! And by the way; I prefer to be called the Clown _Princess_ of Crime and not bitch. Sense when did you start cussin' anyway Jonathan Crane?"

"Jonny doesn't swear. I'm the Scarecrow," he explained slowly as if to a child.

Harley raised her eyebrows, "Scarecrow?"

"Yes,"

"Jonathan told me ya went away," she said in a more serious tone.

"Yeah I know, Jonathan tends to lie to preserve his dignity. He cares way to much about it," he scoffed, "As if he's got any left,"

Harley Quinn nodded, "Okay... I should, um, I should go... now before Mistah J comes home," she began heading for the door.

The Scarecrow was instantly in front of her, "Why are you suddenly in such a hurry Harley Quinn? Did Jonny say some not so nice things about me when you were his therapist?"

Harley stared into the icy blue eyes before her. They were definitely Jonathan Crane's, wide and unmistakably blue, yet something was different. She could not quite place it, maybe they were lighter in color. Or maybe it was the pin-prick pupils that she found so chilling. She was not sure why they had suddenly shrunk in size, whether he was high or this was just part of the Scarecrow. Harley had never met him before.

"No, he didn't talk about you," she uttered just above a whisper.

Harley took a few steps backward hoping that she could still make an escape. The Scarecrow followed. She took several more steps and he continued on. Then suddenly she bumped into the wall.

Scarecrow, unfazed by Harley second escape attempt continued to talk, "Really? Well, I'll have to explain then; I am everything that your good friend Jonathan Crane wants to be and can't. I'm more spontaneous, I don't care what people think, I know how to have fun..."

"S-so you're kinda like Mistah J?" she glanced around him towards the closed door.

"No, I still have Jonathan's intellect... Which sorry, that's exactly what your boyfriend lacks. I tend to enjoy chaos and fear but I don't act without thinking. That's what the Joker does. I refuse to let myself get killed or thumped on by a guy in a bat suit,"

"I thought you said Jonny cared to much about his dignity, sounds like you care," Harley pointed out, slightly offended by the remarks about Mr. J.

"No. I just have common sense. The thing about Jonny is that he lets it control him. Power, that is. See he's all about image, looking important, being important... he always wants to have power over someone. So much so, that when he was a doctor in Arkham, that still wasn't enough. That's why he let me take the wheel for a little bit," he leaned in close, "Because I take what I want,"

"And what's that Scarecrow?"

"Anything Jonathan Crane wants," he replied, "But won't admit to wanting it,"

He paused for a moment, blue eyes watching Harley Quinn, who did her best not to tremble in his presence. She knew she was perfectly capable of handling herself, but something about seeing Jonny this way frightened her. It was his voice, but he wasn't talking, it was his body so near to her's but it was Scarecrow at the same time. The confusion and fear of what he would do next was becoming to much for her nerves, her hands began to shake. Scarecrow noticed and smiled slightly.

He seemed to grow closer, "Wanna know something Jonny Crane wants and will never admit to?" the Scarecrow placed his hands on the wall, on either side of Harley's head, "Maybe it's the lack of meds or no sleep or something, but for whatever reason; Jonny's taken quite a liking to you,"

"I really outa go," Harley choked out, trying to push his arm away.

The Scarecrow roughly grabbed her arm and pinned it to the wall, "He finds himself thinking about you," he continued, "Of course he'd never tell you that because his thoughts aren't those of a well respected Arkham Asylum doctor, no," he took her other arm and then slid them both down the wall and to her sides, "Why don't we do Jonny a favour," Scarecrow's face so close their lips almost brushed.

Clearly to close for Harley, she kneed him hard in the stomach, causing him to let go. She scurried to the door, desperatly trying to think of a way to save herself. She was nearly there when Scarcrow caught her once again, he pushed her into the recliner.

"You could have just said no," he looked down on her from her laying position, "Its probably just as well the more I think about it. Lord knows how may STDs Sideshow Bob's probably given ya in the past month. I know something we can do that's much more fun,"

He fumbled in one of his large sweatshirt pockets while holding Harley down with his knee. He pushed his sleeve up revealing the toxin he'd strapped safely to his right arm. Scarecrow placed the canister close to her face as he continued searching for his mask.

Harley's lips began to bleed again where the Joker had cut her, "Jonny please, please don't do this," she begged, warm blood running into her mouth.

"No, its Scarecrow," he pulled out the burlap mask and slid it over his face.

Suddenly the door opened, slamming into the other side of the wall. Joker was home.

There he was, like a knight in shining armor come to rescue his beloved clown princess. Relief flooded Harley, but only for a moment. She realized she was not supposed to leave their room as he began to approach her. Her joy to see him and hope he was here to rescue her faded.

"Hello boss," Scarecrow sneered from beneath his mask.

Joker ignored him, dark eyes locked on Harley Quinn, "Harley Harley Harley Quinn," he sang.

The clown shoved Scarecrow out of the way as if he were not a threat at all.

"Ya know it's funny how I tell you to stay in a certain place and yet you always end up, uh, some-where else," he licked his lips.

Harley noticed most of the paint had been smeared off them, leaving red stained and scared lips behind.

"And usually I find ya with your little playmate Jonny Crane here," Joker cocked his head to one side, "And Harley darling, it can only happen sooo many ti-imesss before I start to get maaad,"

Harley Quinn shrunk back into the chair, sucking on her bloody bottom lip.

"Hey Joker," Scarecrow broke the silence.

"What-uh," he rolled his eyes, frustrated.

Joker turned around to look at the Scarecrow, only to be met with a long spray of fear gas directly in his painted face. Harley gasped loudly behind the two, obviously in fear for Mr. J's safety.

For a long moment he didn't do much of anything. He just stood there, mouth agape, staring confused at the Scarecrow. And then he started to react. It was not as chaotic as he had expected from the Clown Prince of Crime, which disappointed the Scarecrow somewhat. Still, it was satisfying. Especially after having to work for that clown, being forced to invent a lethal laughing gas and deal with his annoying girlfriend's problems.

Technically though, it was more of Jonny's burden than his own... well, he still had to hear it.

Joker turned and glanced at Harley for a second before stumbling into a wall. He slid down it, back against it's cold, gray surface and onto the floor. His eyes widened, exaggerated by black makeup as he looked around the room. He scanned the room frantically for some time before landing back on Harley and then on Scarecrow. His mouth moved in an attempt to form words but his efforts seemed fruitless. With that his eyes rolled backwards and his head lolled back, hitting the wall behind him.

* * *

_Mwahahaha cliffhanger!!!!!!_

_I hope I did Scarecrow well. (Gaaah that's sounds wrong... and yet sooo right.) It was tough and almost like creating a completely other character because of what little screen time the Scarecrow had in Batman Begins. (Jonathan's one character, Scarecrow's another) At first I had no idea how to write him. But I am satisfied._

_I saw something that rendered me speechless recently. I'm trying not to get my hopes up in case it's not real but I'm pretty damn excited anyway. I saw a trailer for a movie called Arkham, set 10 years after the Dark Knight and in short sounds like the Joker/Harley "Mad Love" story. Again, no clue what it really is, but here is the website which of course has the trailer: http://www .arkham-themovie. com/ It made my head go boom to say the least._


	33. Nyctophobia

Harley climbed slowly of the chair, "Mistah J?" she whimpered. She cautiously approached him, still on the floor. On her knees beside him she looked towards the Scarecrow, "What did you do?" her eyes filled with tears as she asked.

The Scarecrow pulled his mask off, "I sprayed him with fear toxin, obviously,"

"But why is he doing this,"

"Different people have different reactions. I gotta say I expected more, but it looks like the toxin was to much for him. Does he still have a pulse?" he bent down on one knee by Harley.

She started to cry. It had been in the back of her mind but she thought surely the fear gas didn't kill him.

Scarecrow reached out his hand, the one with the toxin on it, to check the clown's pulse. He didn't expect one, a lot of his test subjects had heart attacks after experiencing the hallucinogen. Their bodies unable to take the stress their mind was putting them through. Even Jonathan had to marvel at that, the fact that one could kill themselves on their thoughts alone.

Once he had heard of a man that spent a night locked in a freezer. When he was found in the morning he was dead, his autopsy confirmed he died of hypothermia. But as it turned out the freezer was never turned on, he just believed he was freezing to death and so he did.

"Would you stop crying?" Scarecrow's attention left Joker for a moment.

In those fleeting seconds he was distracted, Joker opened his eyes. He grabbed the Scarecrow wrist and turning it to his unmasked face then sprayed him with his own toxin. With the other hand he held him by his hair, forcing him to breath it in, just as the Batman did.

Harley screamed.

"Did you honestly think your lit-tle toxin would affect meee?" he continued to spray it into his unprotected face.

Scarecrow, being a coward, disapeered shortly after being sprayed. He left Jonathan to deal with the clown.

He gasped and coughed, watching the room spin made him sick. But when it finally stilled he felt even sicker. The Joker's face filled his vision and the Joker was the last thing the former doctor wanted to see when he was hallucinating.

The clowns mouth morphed and his scars seemed to spit apart, leaving one long bleeding cut across his face, literally from ear to ear. Deep red, blood gushed, dripped and moved across his face then onto his shirt in every way possible. His eyes were equally disturbing, they did not seem to be there at all. Nothing but two black eye sockets stared down at the frighted Jonathan.

Joker appeared to lick the blood off his top lip, "If you only had a brain..." he sighed and let go.

Jonathan fell to the floor for a moment, beneath a cloud of fear gas. His heart pounded so rapidly he could clearly hear it. He struggled to his feet despite the fearful tremors shaking him. Then he darted out the door, escaping the warehouse.

Joker roughly took Harley's hand and pulled her up. He pulled her along, out of Jonathan's room.

"Puddin'? I feel kinda funny," she said as they rushed down the hall.

To Harley Quinn the walls seemed to move slightly. They throbbed, pulsating to the increasing beat of her heart. Her breath seemed to come faster and harder in her tightening chest. The hallway grew blurry and then completely dark.

Harley screamed and clung to Mr. J, "The lights are gone!" she exclaimed, "What's happening Mistah J? Mistah J?"

He didn't answer, instead he shoved her into their room and shut the door, leaving her alone inside.

Harley Quinn still could not see anything. She had breathed in a significant amount of fear toxin meant for Jonathan Crane. Not enough to do any permanent damage, but enough to cause some major panic for the next few hours.

"Where'd ya go? Mistah J, are you there?!" she felt around the room which appeared even darker than the hall, Harley had never seen anything quite that dark.

Desperately trying to calm down and gather her thoughts, Harley attempted to remember if the room had a window. She thought for sure it did. And though small, it would provide some light from the city's street lights. Hands outstretched she felt her way across the room until she felt a wall. Carefully and slowly she ran her hands across the wall in search of the window that would save her from that awful darkness.

"It's not on the first wall," she whispered to herself after coming to a corner in the room, "Not on the second wall," she felt the next corner and then the third wall, "Not here," she whimpered, "Or here," she felt along the last wall, "There's just no windows," she whispered.

That's when it occurred to her, once she had felt all four walls in the room, that she had never felt a door. Only smooth flat walls had grazed her fingertips.

"The door," she began her trip around the four walls once again, this time faster.

She stumbled in the black of darkness leaning against the wall. But after at least four times around the room she still could not find the door.

"There's no door the door's gone," Harley mumbled as she felt up and down the wall, "Mistah J?! The door there's no door!"

* * *

Joker stood outside, back up against the door. The one Harley was pounding on and insisting it was not there. He knew her sobs and screams were from the fear gas, as was believing that the door was gone.

Fear toxin caused its victim to experience their greatest fears and phobias on extreme levels. Harley Quinn's fears were obviously related to darkness and being alone.

She slammed her fists furiously against the door, pleading for Mr. J to come back. He licked his bottom lip across the small "y" shaped scar in the center. He could open the door, he could go in there, hold her tightly and make those fears go away, but he wouldn't. Never, because he did not love her. At least that's what he had been telling himself for the past week. He didn't want to make her better.

He groaned, his pants becoming uncomfortably tight. The Joker wished Harley didn't turn him on this much. The frightened sobs coming from the bedroom were to much. He wished he could control himself more, he never had this problem until Harley Quinn came along. He didn't understand it, was there something special about her.... no. There was nothing special about her, he fought with himself.

"Harley what are you doing to me," he moaned.

She could not hear his voice over her own cries.

Joker grit his teeth as he slid onto the floor, panting heavily. He hated this feeling, this desire. The Joker was a symbol of everything that was wrong with humanity. He symbolized chaos, anarchy and fear. He had convinced himself that he was more than a man, so why did he feel this way now?

Of course he had been with several women, but none of them made him want like Harley did. Symbols do not have weaknesses. The former doctor was soon becoming his weakness. He wanted to hurt her so bad at this point, slam her against the wall and slice her throat until all her pretty blood spilled out. Joker wanted to make her scream and cry, beg for mercy until she admitted she made a mistake falling for him. It was her fault he felt this way now.

The problem with not making plans is that you never know exactly how your general idea will work out. The clown never thought to far ahead. Naturally he never considered his future with Harleen Quinzel. His mind went back to that day at the asylum, on the floor, trying to be quiet, he took everything from her. Her virginity, her heart and her sanity. Joker assumed he could end it anytime. He'd end his shrink's slow decent into madness by cruelly leaving her. After she had become obsessed, right at the point when she would rather die than live without him. That much had happened by now, they were actually beyond that point of infatuation. But he found Harley becoming like a drug. And the more hits he took, the harder she became to walk away from.

They had gone to far and there was no turning back. That left him only one last thing to do; end it, end them. And he began to think of how to do it, and in more ways than one.

* * *

_Nyctophobia is a fear of the dark. Phobias... yaaaaay._

_I really wanted an excuse to make the Joker look scarier than he already is, hence the Scarecrow trippin' on fear gas and getting all freaked out by him. I also wanted an excuse to expose Harley's biggest fears, being apart from Mr. J._

_The fear gas though, does not effect Joker. I can't remember if that was in a comic book or a cartoon that he got sprayed and was fine. Basically I think he's messed up so much without the stuff that it's no much different than real life for him._

_Just a little warning: this is coming to an end soon. (Incase that last sentence didn't give you a clue) I'm hoping to end with 35 chapters, that's why this one was so short. (And I feel a little half-assed, sorry for that. But that's just my opinion and I'm to critical of my work)_


	34. Reality

Harley made one final attempt to get Joker's attention. And of course failed to do so. Her strength was slowly depleting, her fists throbbed from pounding on the door. Carefully Harley made her way across the dark room and stumbled upon the mattress laying on the floor.

She layed down on it, her body aching as the effects of the fear gas began to wear off.

"Don't you love me?" she sobbed quietly, "Why won't you save me?"

Holding herself closely in an attempt to find comfort, Harley Quinn passed out.

* * *

"Oh, oh, oh my God," Jonathan swatted at the invisible crows flying around him, "Get away!" he shouted, "I know you're not real! I think..."

It had been about an hour since Joker forced fear toxin into his already delicate nervous system. Crane's brain seemed to be adjusting to reality again, but not completely. He didn't hope for much, considering the brain damage Batman had given him from a concentrated dose of the stuff. Not to mention there were no anti-psychotics in his system, instead there were various other drugs. And he had absolutely no idea what Scarecrow snorted, sniffed, smoked or swallowed. He didn't want to know.

A few disturbing images and invisible attackers plagued his mind off and on. But at least now part of him was assuring the other part that none of this was real.

Scarecrow had not returned since the fear gas, clown incident. Coward. Jonathan hated him... and yet he couldn't live without the alter ego.

The former doctor couldn't quite recall when the Scarecrow was "born". It was a slow fade, little things here and there that developed the fear obsessed villain. He noticed occasionally enjoying his little experiments in Arkham Asylum. They'd at times inspire a smile or a few giggles when nearly nothing else could. From there the problems grew. Scarecrow put words in his mouth, uncharacteristic comebacks and comments. He knew it was wrong, but he could not resist. Scarecrow was making him feel to damn good.

Jonathan Crane was never one to be considered "cool"... or even average. From grade school on he was considered a bit of an odd ball, a misfit and with Scarecrow made him something else entirely. He was confident, in control and powerful, he liked that. There had been so many things in Jonny's life he had no control over.

Jonathan never thought the alter ego could turn into an official case of insanity. Things like that just were not supposed to happen to him, he was far to brilliant.

He blamed Batman for that. The fear toxin quickly ate up the little sanity he had maintained. Scarecrow wouldn't leave and Crane realized his "imaginary friend" was not as great as he thought.

And that is what somehow reduced him from respected Arkham Asylum psychiatrist to this. He was now wondering blindly through the filthy underbelly of Gotham known as the Narrows while hallucinating that he was being attacked by killer birds. Sad. He was not even sure where he was, or even where he was going. At this point he did not care. He would actually prefer to find his way to Arkham. The thought of a small cell with a locked door and a handful of anti-psychotics was quite comforting.

"Stop! Stop it!" Jonathan stumbled and fell as he fought of the imaginary flock of black birds.

He groaned on the wet black top and attempting to stand despite his dizziness. The suddenly some one grabbed him. He choked slightly as the aggressive stranger yanking him into a standing position by this hood.

He assumed this could only mean her was being mugged, the situation could only get worse after all.

"I have nooo money at all," he raised his hand in the air, "Seriously I-" he stopped.

It was not a mugger gripping his sweatshirt. Or at least he didn't think it was, it seemed to be Batman. Still, there was a strong possibility this was just another hallucination.

"Is this real life?" Crane slurred slightly at the man in a bat costume.

"Yes," he growled.

"How do I know that? How do I know I'm not imagining you?"

"What happened to you?" Batman asked gruffly, noticing Crane's strange behavior.

"The Joker happened," he sighed, assuming he was talking to a figment of his imagination, "He sprayed me with fear toxin,"

"Where is he now?" the vigilante demanded to know.

"Why? In the neighborhood, decided to pop in for a little visit?" Crane responded, vision swimming and morphing the Bat's face, "I dunno why I'm even talking to you... you probably aren't even real," he heaved another sigh, "This town may not be real, the Joker; spraying me with fear gas may never have happened. I may just be lying in Arkham Asylum sedated out of my mind-"

Batman slammed Jonathan against a nearby building side, "Where is the Joker?" he roared.

"How is this supposed to help my mental state Batman... ow,"

"Where is the Joker?" he repeated.

"I-I'm not completely sure... I have an idea of where he's staying, but I'm not sure," Jonathan rubbed the back of his head, "If I tell you will you get me back to Arkham... assuming this is all real and I'm not already there,"

Batman paused for a moment, somewhat surprised that the Arkham Asylum escapee before him wanted to return, "Yes," he finally said.

"Okay," Crane took a deep breath trying to remember.

He had not paid much attention on the ride to the warehouse; hallucinations and scary henchclowns made that nearly impossible. And of course the former doctor had not taking the time to write down directions on his way out of the hide out.

"He's... in the Narrows," he stated the obvious, "The hideout is a warehouse, an abandoned one. It's really deep into the Narrows... by the docks I think,"

Batman grabbed Crane's wrist and began pulling him forward.

"Are you taking me back to Arkham now," he said stumbling behind the vigilante.

Batman growled a response, "You'll get back,"

Still keeping a tight grip on the former doctor's wrist Batman made his way out of the alley they were in.

"So are you taking Joker back to Arkham to?" Jonathan questioned, the drugs in his system making him unusually bold around the Bat.

"Why do you want to find him?" Jonathan repeated his question after being ignored.

"I have a bad feeling about Dr. Quinzel,"

Jonathan laughed slightly, "Pretty sure her title as a doctor basically destroyed by now. If you think you're going to rush in like a dark knight in shining Kevlar and save a damsel in distress you're in for a surprise," he warned, "Princess Harley Quinn doesn't wanna be saved. I feel bad for her... but trust me she's lost it. She loves that Joker," he sighed, "What are you doing now?"

The Batman had finally stopped dragging him along in front of a payphone. He began punching in numbers as he kept a firm grip on Jonathan Crane.

"Nine, one, one? Why are you doing that? You said you'd take me back to Arkham,"

"Jonathan Crane is tied to a payphone in the Narrows," was all the masked vigilante said before hanging up, He turned back to Jonathan, "Don't move,"

He removed some nylon chord from his utility belt on his Kevlar suit and tied it around Cranes wrists. The he attached the chord to the payphone.

"No, no you said-" Jonathan began to protest before Batman cut him off.

"I still don't know where Joker is. Besides, I said I'd get you there, I didn't say how. The police are coming, they'll take you to Arkham," Batman explained with his usual angry tone, he finished and turned to go.

"Wait! No! You- you can't leave me here, tied to a payphone in the middle of the night... in THE NARROWS! You're crazy!" Jonathan paniced, struggling against his bonds, "Come back!" he exclaimed to Batman, "I could get killed... or worse!"

The Bat stopped and looked back at the pathetic "Scarecrow", his big, blue eyes pleading. For a moment he felt badly, Jonathan seemed so small and afraid. It was very unlike his usual arrogant image. But then Batman pictured Rachel, his beautiful Rachel, half conscious and in fear thanks to the Scarecrow. Sure he had not killed her, not like the Joker, but he did intend to.

"This may not be real Crane, remember?" and with that he continued on.

* * *

_I've brought you normal Jonny, sick Jonny, Scarecrow and now Jonny trippin' balls. I dunno, thought it would be fun. He's not like full blown Fear and Lothing in Las Vegas high but yeah. Jonathan Crane is portrayed as a druggie alot, I think that's funny with the fear gas and all. BTW I gotta give credit to a little boy named David for: "Is this real life?" If you've never seen it watch David after Denist on youtube. Its so funny, I just wish I had been that high after I got my wisdom teeth out._

_SO anyway; Batman. I think Rachel is totally going to be an issue for him in the next movie (that is if she's really dead ooooooh). I think the character will be reminded that she's dead alot (or is she ooooh), so that's why I did the little grudge against Crane thing. Even though he did not kill her he harmed her and now afer Rachel's death; that memory is worse. Hence Batsy cruel behavior._

_So one more chapter to go baaaaaaaw. It's bittersweet, I'm sad to end it but I feel accomplished at the same time. I'm also very excited to write the 35th chapter, its gonna be interesting...._


	35. Joker's Wild

"I wonder what he needs these for," Chuckles poked at the bouquet of roses Joker had sent him to get.

Mime shrugged a reply, "Maybe they're for that Harley chick," he suggested examining a switchblade with boredom.

It had been an uneventful day in comparison to the previous night. After seeing what had happened to Jonathan Crane, all the remaining employees just sat around, unoccupied, avoiding trouble from they're boss.

Chuckles sat down on the couch beside Mime, still holding the deep red flowers. Four other henchmen sat in different places around the room, as if waiting for something to happen.

"No way man," Chuckles finally said, "The Joker wouldn't do that, he just uses girls... Unless this one's gonna ya know stick around... naw, never mind,"

"I dunno Chuckles III'm just full of uh, sur-prisssess," Joker spoke up.

"Oh shit! I, um, I didn't hear ya back there boss," he turned around making excuses for his latest screw up, "Whatchyou gonna do with these is you're business. I messed up, shouldn't be talkin' bout you," he apologized quickly before the clown had time to do anything like blow the henchman's head off or carve any permanent smiles.

Instead Joker just shrugged and took the roses.

"What are you doing with them?" a random henchie questioned, "Sir," he added quickly.

Everyone looked at him, both in confusion and disbelief at what he just asked. It was obviously an inappropriate question, hence Chuckles's speedy explanation.

Joker rolled his eyes. "Well since every-one's so damn eager to knooow..." he tossed the bouquet from one hand to the other, "I'm uh, setting a scene,"

"What do you mean?" the same henchmen spoke up, again earning several strange looks from his fellow henchmen, "Like for Harl-" Joker cut him off.

"You're not a smart man are you?" the clown cocked his head to one side.

The particularly bold henchmen shook his head eager to agree with his boss.

The Joker merely rolled his eyes at the crazy little suck-up, contemplating whether he kill him. The clown decided no since he didn't have enough time to turn into a gory lesson in manners for the other henchies.

Joker sighed, " Yeah. It involves Harley... let's just say it's something I've thought about since the day we met," he spun the flowers around, "And increasingly in the past for daaays-uh," the clown chewed on his lip a moment, "It doesn't really involve you people sooo go away,"

No one moved, "Where?" Chuckles asked.

"I don't care, just leave. If I ever need you again I'll find you," was the Joker's odd response, "Go. Now,"

The henchmen quickly got to there feet. Only a few of them had personal possessions, packed in a back pack laying in the warehouse. After getting their things, they did exactly as their boss had ordered; they left.

"Did we just get fired?" Chuckles asked no one in particular after stepping outside the warehouse.

"Seems like it," Mime shrugged.

"I guess I should just be glad I didn't get like, fired from life. I mean, shit, A few more weeks in there and I mighta blew it," the other henchmen said with some relief.

"Oh yeah," Mime agreed, "Spades and me had money riding on that,"

"That's cold... who won?"

"Spades," Mime replied, "But he's in jail, I ain't gotta pay him now,"

"And just how much were you gonna get if I was killed, ya jackass," Chuckles questioned.

"Twenty bucks,"

"Damn dog," Chuckles shoved him slightly, "I gotta be worth more than a twenty to you,"

Mime shook his head no.

"So where we goin'?" Chuckles pulled his hood up.

Mime replied, "I heard a this guy, just got released from Arkham, the Riddler or something. We could check that out, unless you're done workin' for whackos,"

"The Riddler? Sounds like a Joker ripoff," Chuckles paused, "Hold up, if he just got released, shouldn't he be... I dunno, sane?"

"I heard the new head of Arkham's as fucked up as his patients, he's letting a lot of inmates out," explained Mime.

Chuckles laughed slightly, "Maybe we should go work for him,"

* * *

Harley's eyes opened suddenly, waking from a fear toxin induced nightmare. A mild wave of amnesia seemed to come over her as she quickly forgot the nightmare, as well as where she was. She looked at the room from her laying position on the mattress, trying to recall her surroundings. It was of course she and Joker's room in the warehouse. The door was back, so was the small window. The blueish light of a rainy afternoon fading into evening was shining through it.

Reality felt good. Harley Quinn thought she would never escape her door-less prison from the night before. Though she still could not grasp exactly what was going on. She tried to recall the events before everything went black. Slowly, blurry memories came back to her.

Harley remembered Scarecrow making an appearance for the first time around her. It gave her chills to contemplate him, she could still see Jonathan's pale blue eyes change into something almost inhuman. She had always wondered during their therapy sessions what is was that made Jonathan Crane so terrifying to his victims; beside fear toxin. Jonathan Crane lacked in physical presence, being a fairly small man. Harleen Quinzel had always found him to have a certain geeky charm with his glasses and his longish hair flipped in all directions. He was nothing to be in fear of, but she now knew that Scarecrow was something to fear.

Harley thought for a moment, had Scarecrow sprayed her? She remembered him standing over her, blue eyes piercing though the torn holes in his mask, but she could not recall the spray of toxin. No, he didn't spray her, someone stopped him. Images of the horrific night began coming back to her in brief sections like someone searching through television channels.

Joker came. Harley suddenly remembered what stopped the Scarecrow from harming her; the Joker. Despite being sprayed with toxin himself the clown managed to save his Harley Quinn and made sure that her attacker was punished. Her heart fluttered for a moment, to think that he did in fact care for her...

But wait, where had he been all night? Where was he when she was afraid. Harley had nearly forgot that she had obviously felt the effects of the Scarecrow's toxin in all her admiration of Mr. J.

So if Scarecrow was not to blame for her suffering, the only other person to spray her... would be Joker. Harley's heart sank at the thought as she began making a million excuses for why he would do such a thing. She had become quite good at overlooking his faults after all.

"Haarley," a voice from behind her said, "You up yet?" it was Joker.

"Yeah Mistah J," she responded softly.

"Feelin' better?" he asked.

"Uh-huh,"

"Good, cause I got a surprise for ya," he got up.

Harley rubbed her eyes and begin to sit up on the bare mattress. Though the room was beginning to become darkened Harley noticed that nearly all the green dye had rinsed out of the Joker's hair. Over the past few days the dye had been wearing off. It was dark blond and pleasantly curly, not as messy and greasy as usual. Harley Quinn watched him from across the room as he picked up some flowers.

As he turned she was surprised to see him without makeup. Not a trace of his black, red or white grease paint remained on his face. Harley had not seen the paint completely removed since the night she dared to remove it herself. He looked worse from beneath the makeup than he had that night. Joker's dark circles were even more obvious, lining his eyes just like the black grease paint did.

"These are for you," he handed her the roses with a genuine smile.

Harley smiled in return, happy with her gift, though at the same time something felt strange. Joker was being very nice for a change, but somehow it seemed false. It seemed almost dream-like. A colorful pleasing illusion but it seemed as though at any moment something would go horribly wrong.

Harley began to push her fearful feelings aside and decided to try and enjoy Mr. J's rare moment of gentleness. She assumed it was fear toxin, still in her system that was making her wary.

"You don't have any make up on Mistah J," Harley attempted to make conversation, taking her mind of her current thoughts.

"Nope... you like that don't you?" he asked.

She gave a bashful nod as she felt the delicate rose petals, "But I'm in love with the Joker. With or without his make up,"

Harley sat the roses on the bed and stood despite her wobbly legs. Her knees threatening to give out due to her anxiety. But she still went to Joker, with the slight hope that his embrace would once again make everything okay. It would make things seem real again. Not to mention after the night she had spent without him made her want him more than ever.

Harley didn't stop to contemplate how strange that reasoning was, it didn't matter anyway. All the time she had spent with Mr. J proved to become continuously strange. At this point going to a homicidal clown for comfort was not out of the ordinary.

As she approached her clown prince she noted a different expression across his pale, unpainted face. She could not quite place it. Was it nerves, much like her own? Harley had never seen that face; she had seen variations of anger and happiness on the Joker, but she couldn't recall nervousness. It was so unlike him, so... human.

He sucked on his scarred bottom lip and looked everywhere but directly at her eyes. His hand fidgeted at his sides. Harley stilled him, holding them in her own. She stood on her tip-toes slightly and began to lean closer to him, hoping for a fairy tale kiss. All the good stories ended that way. With a gentle kiss that saved the princess and let the couple live happily ever after

"Do you wanna know why I'm not wearing make up?" Joker blurted out before Harley Quinn's lips came any closer to his.

"Why?" she became somewhat disappointed.

"I hadta run some errands," he began, "I got you something else for ya,"

He handed her another gift that had been waiting on the floor.

Harley reached into the plastic bag that Mr. J had just handed her and pulled out a new dress. Not just any dress though. It was a black and red mini dress, covered in harlequin diamonds and small red ruffled on the skirt. It was a perfect costume for Harley Quin.

"It's beautiful," she smiled holding it up to herself.

"So you'll uh, where it tonight?" Joker questioned.

Harley nodded, somewhat confused, "Kay, what's tanight puddin'," she found her fake accent growing thicker as she felt safe and happier once again.

"Yooouu'll seeee," the clown replied in a sing song voice, "Why don't you get ready? Hair, make up, all that," he waved his hands around.

Harley giggled, "What are we gonna do Mistah J?"

"If I tell you Harley-kins, it won't be a suuur-pri-ise," he called as he headed towards the door.

After he had left Harley looked down at the strapless little dress in her hands and excitedly began undressing so she could try it on.

* * *

For once the Joker wanted everything to be perfect. He dropped his usual chaotic ways of planning, or lack thereof, just this once for Harley. Harley Quinn deserved the best.

And he had not necessarily planned this out, it was more like a vision. He had a very clear vision of how the events of tonight should look. Of how they should feel.

So far he was pleased. Things had went almost exactly the way he had imagined (Joker refused to recall his bad reaction to Harley's attempted kiss). Yet still enough to give Harley the surprise of a lifetime, she deserved it.

He gave a one-sided smile at his reflection in his dirty mirror, brushing a lock of freshly dyed hair off of his forehead.

It had been nearly two hours now, Harley should be all dressed up and ready. Let the games begin.

* * *

Harley Quinn's make up was on perfectly. The clown paint carefully smoothed across her face with a white base, black mask shape and a red smile. Her new dress fit wonderfully, she matched it with a pair of black and red platform boots. She fluffed one of her pigtails, judging by her reflection in the darkened window not a hair was out of place. Though she caught sight of a few blond roots peeking down her parted hair, that bothered her a bit.

Harley needed everything to be in order since Mr. J obviously had something very important in store for her. Could it possibly be that she had made a break through with her former patient? Perhaps he would tell her that he was ready to leave Gotham, ready to forget the Bat and admit that he loves her.

She nearly squealed with excitement at the thought.

Quickly, she hurried out of the makeshift bedroom and down the staircase to find Joker. Her platform shoes clanked on the metal stairs and echoed throughout the warehouse.

"Mist-ah Jaaaay," she called, "I'm all ready, can ya tell me ya surprise now,"

As she hopped excitedly off the last stair, Harley noticed the warehouse looked different then when they had moved in. Most of the furniture was ripped with long, jagged slashes in the upholstery. Some of the lighter objects were turned on their sides or upside down and a few were splashed with blood.

"Mistah J... I said I'm ready," Harley's voice shook slightly as she looked around the disheveled room.

"I heard you Harley dar-liiing," Joker's voice rang out, indeterminately bouncing of the warehouse walls, "We're gonna play a lit-tle game," he explained, still from an unknown area in the room, "And it's called Joker's Wild cause ya neeever know what I'm gonna do to you,"

Harley spun around searching for the source of the voice. Familiar pangs of fear and panic flooding back as her dream began turning into a nightmare. Yet this was all to real.

"I-I don't know how to play that game puddin', can we do somethin' else?" she called.

"Aaaw don't be so hard on yourself pumpkin, you'll catch on fast. Besides there's really nothing to know... there is uh, no rules," Joker snicked.

"I'm scared," Harley whimpered.

Joker lowered his voice to reply, "You should be,"

Harley Quinn stared towards the office spaces above the staircase, wondering if the Joker was up there. The footsteps behind her told her otherwise. She whirled around to see him only a few feet away from where she stood. His face was freshly painted once again and his hair a noticeable shade of green. Now fully costumed complete with his dark purple trench coat, the intimidating side of Joker returned.

"Now, since there isn't any rules, there isn't much to explain," he cracked his neck as he stepped towards her, "I've decided its basically like a cross betweeeen uh, tag and hide-and-go seek," Mr. J waved his gloved fingers in the air, "Only you'll never be "it"-uh,"

He caressed her painted jawline leaving a cool, sticky substance behind. Harley glanced at the leather gloves, it was blood. She hastily attempted to wipe it from her face as she had no idea who it had belonged to.

Joker began walking a slow circle around Harley, "Unless you reeeaally want to fight back," he twisted one of her pigtails around his finger, "You know I like that in a girl,"

By now Harley thought that she had seen the worst of Joker's mood swings and personality reconstruction. She thought that she had seen him at his worst and endured him during his cruelest moments. At that moment Harley realized he had not yet scratched the surface of what the Joker was. And now she had no idea what to do but stand frozen hoping that another mood swing would come along and make him change his mind.

"I don't understand," Harley finally uttered.

"What?" Joker replied, dangerously close, "Don't understand what?"

"Well it's just that upstairs you gave me flowers and, and this," she tugged on her dress, "What are you doing?"

Joker smiled, "I like to be unpredictable, I like to confuse you and I like to see you break when you just can't understand me," his arm snaked around her waist smearing some blood across the new dress.

Harley wanted to protest, to tell him he was wrong. All this time she had told herself that she was the only one who could understand Mr. J, now she was at a loss. At this moment she did not understand.

It gave her a bad feeling. It felt like falling, letting go of everything she had known to be love. The Joker was all she knew, Harley Quinn did not want to let go.

She stood staring blankly, mouth agape trying to form words. She wanted to prove Mr. J wrong and show that she loved and understood him like no one else could but she could not find her voice.

Joker still stood close to her, bloodied hands lingering across her. Harley felt numb. Could she have been wrong about Mr. J? Impossible, Harleen Quinzel was never wrong, she was best at everything she did. Of course, she was no longer Harleen...

Finally, Joker broke the silence, "I'll give you a head start," he whispered, letting go and taking a few steps back, "Reeaaady, sssset-uh... go!"

Harley jumped and did her best to bring herself back into reality. As much as she hated to she had to face facts, Joker's games were never nice and never ended well. The clown girl had lost enough blood over the past few days in the Palisades then she cared to again, she knew she had to take action know and make up later.

She looked towards the door. It was not far away, with her "head start" she could make it. And yet something kept her still, she did not want to leave Joker no matter what he wanted to do to her.

"Har-leey, I'm waiting," he reminded her taking a knife from his trench coat pocket.

The silvery blade gave Harley the incentive she needed and with that she darted towards the door.

The clown girl had just grasped the nob when a loud bang echoed and the sound of shattering glass made her fall to the floor in fear.

"Don't leave Harl. Where's the fun in that-uh," Joker waved a hand gun around.

Harley looked up at the broken pane of glass in the center of the door and then at her hands. The stinging sensation seemed to appear at the sight of them. Bleeding in jagged lines across her small hands where broken glass had sliced her skin.

"What if you hide and I find you hmm? Would you like that?," the clown continued, "Obviously the game hasn't been uh, ex-citing enough thus far. Ya know since you're trying to le-ave," he said so honestly that he appeared to believe that to be Harley's actually reason for escape, "I'll count to ten,"

Harley scrambled to her feet as the Joker began to count. Her mind would not seem to work quickly enough. The only solution it had produced was to go along with what Mr. J said and try not to make him mad. Eventually she assumed she could make her way out of the warehouse. Though she began to wonder if that would solve her problem or just make the game of hide and seek larger and her punishment for losing worse.

She began to search among the labyrinth of over-turned furniture for somewhere to hide. Harley ducked underneath a couch turned upside down so that it created a cave like shape.

"Ready or noooot,"

Harley Quinn crouched beneath the couch for a few moments. As Joker's footsteps neared she decided to change her hiding place. Attempting to go unnoticed she crawled on her hands and knees, smearing blood across the floor. Despite the pain, she hurried, trying to find another spot before the Joker found her. Unfortunately for her that was not fast enough. Joker followed stealthy behind her.

"You are just determined not to have fun aren't chya?" he growled grabbing Harley by one of her pigtails and then shoving her back to the floor.

He stepped over her and headed across the room. Harley was puzzled as to what her clown prince was doing until she noticed a row of light switches on the wall. And with a smirk across Joker's painted face he flipped all of them downward, everything went black.

With this Harley feared she might break again, the complete darkness had returned. Everything fell quiet except for the tapping of rain outside and the occasion sound of Joker snickering at Harley Quinn's plight. His voice seemed to echo everywhere, distorting any idea Harley had of where he was standing. She tucked her knees up to her chin and held them tightly against her, desperately searching for a plan when everything was now hopeless.

She realized that this was now a battle of wills, the loser of the game would be the one who gave in first... or was killed. Harley tried not to think of that part and for the hundredth time in their relationship convince herself that Joker would never do such a thing. Harley could not see anything in this darkness, including the Joker. Which meant he could not see her. The thought occurred to her that she could use this to her advantage.

Tears filled Harley's eyes and steadily ran down her cheeks. She did her best not to sob and give away her position in the dark. Then crawling again she made her way back to the couch. Harley rubbed and scratched at her white face paint, knowing that he might see it in the dark. After she removed most of it she pulled off her platform shoes and slowly stood up.

There was a very faint outline of the door across the warehouse. Streetlights from outside shone in dimly through the door's broken window. She stepped in its direction, slowly at first. Harley was not sure that this was what she wanted. Though she was terrified at the moment, she was no less in love. She wanted to save herself, but where would that leave Joker?

Her heart pounded so loudly that she heard it quickly thumping in her own ears. Harley carefully and quietly continued towards the door. She was approaching her salvation, seemingly unnoticed, she should have been happy. Instead it made her cry more.

* * *

Joker scanned the room, able to see shapes in the dark, he looked for Harley.

He was not sure how long his little game was going to last. He had not planned that far ahead. All he knew was it wouldn't end yet, in fact it was only beginning. It seemed he was finally getting his Harley Quinn to cooperate with him.

At that moment he caught sight of her as a car passed by the warehouse, its headlights shed temporary light on the scene. What he saw turned his joyful, though sadistic, mood into just plain angry. Yet again Harley was a the door, a foot or so away from freedom.

What did she think she was doing? He had already told her no. Joker watched Harley's barely visible silhouette at the door. She placed a hand on the door nob once again but stopped, seeming to contemplate her actions. Joker took advantage of her pause to think.

He was not sure what this feeling was, but he did not want her to leave. If anything Joker would leave Harley, not the other way around. He refused to let her go without his say in the matter.

Approaching quickly and not bothering to stay quiet he grabbed Harley. His one hand wound in her hair the other grasping the back of her neck. The clown pushed her away from the door and any plans to escape. He slammed her against the wall, she screamed and slid to the floor. But she only stayed still for a few moments and she was back up again.

She stared at him for a moment, clearly crying. Joker could hear her making those sharp, little hiccup-sounding breaths. And then suddenly she hit him. In the face, with her closed fist. Next, she ran blindly into the dark warehouse.

Joker began to follow and in the midst of the blackness stumbled over something. He picked it up, ready to throw it in rage and found it was a sledge hammer. He decided it could prove itself useful in teaching Harley a lesson about running away from home He tossed the long, wooden handle of the hammer over his shoulder and started to search for Harley Quinn.

Thunder erupted outside, adding to the scene. And with thunder came lightning, briefly consuming the darkness in a bright flash of light. It could not have been more perfect. The few seconds of brightness every so often allowed him to see Harley, ducking from one hiding place to another. He made his way quickly towards her, Harley knew it. She stumbled several times in her hast.

Joker slammed the sledge hammer into a nearby chair. The loud crash of breaking furniture startled Harley even more. She tripped and fell on to the hard, unforgiving concrete floor. Harley cried out in panic as Joker approached her. Just as she was about to get to her feet, Joker's hammer came down on her left leg with a sickening crack. Harley froze, unable to scream, she could barely breathe through the pain and shock of her now broken leg.

That didn't satisfy the Joker. He swung his makeshift weapon again, this time bringing it down on Harley's other leg.

Harley gasped, the disgusting sound of her bone break ringing in her ears.

Joker dropped the hammer and stepped back. By now Harley began to whimper in pain. She was not screaming or crying like Joker had expected, she almost seemed to be holding back. But still he relished in the sound and in her pain and fear.

* * *

Harley had never broken a bone in her life. This new pain in both her legs was intense and relentless. Just as she thought it would climax and subside it continued on, bring the same waves if dull pain in her bones.

She closed her eyes tightly, as if she were still in that fear toxin nightmare or that she could wish all of this away. Of course she couldn't do that and part of her thought that she should just face that. But part of her would not let go.

Harley Quinn opened her eyes again and attempted to sit up. The action brought new pain rushing up her legs, making her scream.

Thunder boomed outside of the warehouse and a flash of lightning revealed to her a quick image of her legs. They contorted in unnatural positions and looked as though they were already beginning to swell. Hot tears rushed to Harley's eyes.

"What did I do wrong?" she sobbed quietly, "What'd I do to deserve this?" she looked around for Mr. J who was not answering.

Just then the lights flicked back on, Joker stood by the switch, animalistic eyes fixed on her. Harley had never felt more vulnerable, she felt like prey. He stalked toward her, his tongue probing the inside of his cheek and making his left scar bulge. A couple feet from Harley he sat up a metal folding chair that had been thrown on its side.

"What could I possibly have done?" Harley choked out.

Again the Joker didn't answer. He walked behind her and picked her up before sitting Harley back down in the chair. Another scream in pain forced its way out when he sat Harley down, though she tried to repress it.

It took her a moment to catch her breathe, the pain had taken it away, "I've given you everything Mistah J," she cried.

He ignored her as he searched through the warehouse for something. Harley watched the clown return with some nylon chord.

"I'd do it again," she said softly this time, "I love you. I always will,"

Joker wrapped the chord around her waist and tied it to the back of the chair, followed swiftly by Harley's hands.

She raised her voice, "Did you hear me? I said I love you! It doesn't matter what you do, I can't stop it. It's like- like breathing or something. Stopping would just kill me,"

No response.

"I made a commitment in Arkham to make you better Mr. J and I intend to do that. Not because I have to, because I want to,"

Joker's piercing gaze agitated her. She just wanted him to say something, anything at this point. She didn't know what she expected, maybe nothing at all. Maybe she was just losing her mind completely, that or it was the pain causing her to go into a bit of a rant.

"Damn it say something," she moaned.

"Remember the first time we met Harley?" Joker finally spoke, "You were so cute, trying to look as confident and professional as you could, going through aaalll the right steps to get me to uh, tell my secrets... but you made one mistake,"

She sobbed a pathetic response.

"You under-esssstimated me darling. See, I'm not like the whack jobs in Arkham, I'm not like the mob or any of the other uuuh, criminals in Gotham... and I'm not like you," He was right in front of her now, dark hazel eyes staring into her making her feel as uncomfortable as when he first stared at her from across a table in Arkham, "Believe me sweetheart, I know, cause I saw riiight through you, from the beginning, when you first started playing doctor with me," Joker circled her before standing behind her, "I saw your fear, your fascination... your luust," he twisted her pigtail around his fingers, "But ya know what else I saw?" he bent down, his face close to her's.

"Po-ten-tial," he answered nuzzling her neck for a moment, "Aaaand as usual I was right. But I gotta ask ya puddin'," he stood to face her now, "Just how long did you plan on believing that I loved you?"

Harley had thought about it more than once, the possibility that he didn't share her strong feelings of love. But nothing could have prepared her for that, Mr. J's words still hurt, more than her broken legs. And the worse thing was she could not convince herself she was just being insecure, as she did when the thought presented itself in her own mind. Joker just said it and as harshly as possible.

"Did you reeeally think that you could uh, turn me from my "wicked ways" and love happily ever after in a castle far, far away from Gotham?" he waved his hands around, "Hmm, princess?" Joker stroked her face with the back of his gloved hand, "Let me tell you something I learned the hard way Harley-kins," he licked his lips pushed her chin upwards to face him, "Things don't always work out the way you plaanned,"

"But I did everything for you," Harley Quinn sobbed through her gritted teeth.

"No," Joker corrected, "It's like you said. Loving me is like breath, you would die without it. You would die," he pointed out.

"I said that to prove to you how much you mean to me," the clown girl was barely audible through her crying.

"Doooon't lie to me Harl. You did this for yourself, for some excitement, for some confidence... so you wouldn't have to be alone in this world," Joker pulled a knife out of his trench coat and held it up to the light examining the bright, shining blade, "And I'll uh, spare you of that burden,"

He cocked his head to one side and then downward while he continued to watch her. Joker approached her slowly, knife in hand. Harley was visibly shaking now, most of her black paint running from her eyes and down her cheeks leaving stripes on her barely painted face.

"Harley Quinn," his face was inches away from her's, "Stop lov-ing meee,"

For several moments that seemed to last hours, Harley did not know what was happening to her. A hot pain rushed through one-side of her face as she heard a rip like pulling apart Velcro. It was not until she caught sight of a deep red liquid in her perifial vision that she knew what was going on. By then it was to late, but of course, what could she have done anyway with her hands bound behind her. Harley was in to much shock to accept that fate anyway.

Joker dug the knife deep into the opposite side of Harley's once whole cheek. Another rip and a gush of blood. He lowered his knife. Harley's blue eyes grew wide, her mouth hung opened involuntarily, the lower half of her severed flesh fell limp on each side of her face. Harley's blood ran out of her mouth and down her neck, across her chest before it forever stained that new dress he got her. She had never looked so beautiful to him.

Quickly, Joker grasped either side of Harley Quinn's broken face, holding it together and crashed his lips into her's for a farewell kiss. Thick blood began filling his own mouth as his kiss deepened. After that he pulled away, still holding her and taking one last look at the prettiest smile he had ever seen. And then let go.

Harley sat motionless and watched him go. The horrible stinging in her mutilated face seemed to be dulling, as well as the sick feeling in her stomach. Both were replaced by a high-pitched ringing sound and a light headed feeling. Static began to blur her vision until everything went dark.

* * *

_Oh yes, I finally went there, I killed Harley Quinn... or did I? What do you think? Will Harley be back? Hmmm maybe my two fics will turn into a trilogy. Who knows? Keep checking back to see._

_I wanna thank eveyone who has read and/or reviewed. Thanks for putting up with my lateness and what not, you guys are awesome._

_Thanks to: Breaking Emotions, xSleepxTightx, venusmercurysunev, The One and Only Charcoal, Shail666, NinjaBxtch, clint small 94, LilthXasthur, Sweet Coldkiss, MK08, im-batman, K00K, Raiast, tearsandeyeliner, Eva, DustyDreamer, harleyQdoll, Miss Maggie Ash, Thurid the Invader, General-Beatrix666, pinkpanther95, and pirateaddict._

_I apologize if I missed ya, its very late at night as I'm typing this... er early morning._

_And a special thanks to im-batman who I messaged many nights exclaiming "Batman I need you to proof read" and she always did. *applause*_

_And so ends Slow Burn, I'm sad but feel accomplished at the same time. I hope I conveyed the right amounts of confusion and chaos to these lovely characters and I hope you all enjoyed it and will enjoy fics to come. Thanks again._


End file.
